The Hunt for Sombra: A Multi Fandom Fanfiction
by TheGenericWriter
Summary: When a spectre reemerges from the shadows to cripple the newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D. and Overwatch for the Burning Legion's return, it will take the help of old friends and foes to take her down before she is able to bring the galaxy to a complete standstill... The direct sequel of, "Welcome to Overwatch" and "The Gathering Storm." A multifandom crossover.
1. The Hunt for Sombra

The Hunt for Sombra:

A Multi Fandom Crossover:

September 1st, 2016:

Overwatch's New York Headquarters, Stark Tower.

Another day, another mission gone by. Tony Stark, also known by the moniker, "Iron Man" landed on the building's helipad, bruised and sore from performing an offensive mission for S.H.I.E.L.D's Overwatch division; recently reformed after six months of inactivity.

"Friday, initiate the S.H.I.E.L.D Party Protocol. And send out the invites, make sure the champagne is Rovoli 1955 if you'd will."

"Sure thing sir, anythin' else that I may do for you?"

The AI obediently responded.

Night was falling quickly on the city that never sleeps. However that did not stop the Avengers from throwing a brief party. Many Overwatch, S.H.I.E.L.D, MI6, and freelance agents and mercenaries that were in New York at this time were logically invited to this show of spectacle. Luxurious fountains and ice sculptures dotted Stark Tower's lobby; statues from the most recognizable of artists.

Many of the guests included Sly Cooper, the Frye twins, Reinhardt, Pliskin, James Wolf London and his flying wing, Rytlock Brimstone, Chen Stormstout, and other agents. It was only a simple get together, people engaging in conversation, people sharing stories, or cracking jokes with each other. It was either the carefree attitude of the guests or the charismatic attitude of Stark's DJ and bartender that lightened up the mood that night.

"Say Reinhardt, how many drinks did you have in the past hour?"

Pliskin asked, his voice sounding louder than usual due to the party.

"I DUNNO MEIN FRIEND. I AM JUST HAVING ZE BEST TIME OF MY LIFE! KANONEBKUGEL!"

Reinhardt exclaimed, performing a swift back flip to amaze the crowd.

"Here's to you."

Pliskin said, raising his glass to him.

* * *

Elsewhere in the world, in the area known as King's Row in England, James Bond and his secretary, Eve Moneypenny, was walking very briskly in the early morning hours of a Friday.

"Bond, Q and I- well M of course have a mission debriefing for you later on this day, but however, I have been sent to evaluate your driving skills at this moment so can you please walk to your-"

"Moneypenny, stop acting so timid, it isn't a very good time to act like that in the morning, or is it?"

Bond slyly replied.

"We won't need that car, we're taking mine."

"What! No! Over your blond hair Bond! What are you doing! Turn off the bloody engine at once!"

Moneypenny gasped, frantically banging on the door to Bond's car, An Aston Martin DB5 painted in stainless steel silver. Bond turned the keys and pressed his feet against the gas pedal, his car sprinting off into the sunrise without Moneypenny. Bond pressed a small tab near the wooden dashboard of the car, turning on a built in A.I. Q Branch had installed into the car called, "Athena," a dumb A.I by UNSC and UFS standards.

'Athena, call agent, Lena Oxton."

Bond directly said to her.

"Right away James Bond."

She responded.

"Bond, is that you? Where've you been?"

Lena Oxton, the woman also known as Tracer excitedly said into the car.

"Tracer, I'm currently Belvedere Road, I'm approaching the Union Jack Club as you asked right? I've brought your laptop, Q just fixed it.

"Oh brilliant! I've already got us entrance to the club alright! Q's also here, he took the subway."

"Well, that is just brilliant in my opinion. Smart lad, how old is he? 27 or something around that?"

Bond quibbled back.

"Bond, you really do have a dry sense of humor."

As James' car sped off to the club, a flash of blue appeared over the skies of London. It was the TARDIS; an intergalactic, interdimentional, and an overall timey wimey living thing. The Doctor and his five companions, Rory, Amy, Clara, and the married couple of Marius Pontmercy and Cosette, the latter two on their honeymoon, we only going to be in London for a few moments, then they would head for New York City, the party still occurring a few hours behind Greenwich.

"Doctor, I don't understand, why are we back in London after going on a desert hike on Tatooine?"

Rory asked, walking towards the bow tie clad alien.

"Now now, Rory, you simply can't travel from one corner of the Milky Way to another without resting! Besides, I need to meet with a friend."

The TARDIS gently landed on the banks of the Thames near King's Row where Moneypenny had been ditched. The big royal blue doors unlocked then opened outward, the six of them exiting out to catch a scent of an early autumn.

"Doctor? Is... that really you?"

Moneypenny inquisitively asked, her left eyebrow cocked.

"Moneypenny, of course it's me! Look, bow-tie, suspenders, and tweed jacket to match!"

"It is you! Where've you've been! It's been what, nine months?"

She ran, hugging him and the other five.

"So, where are the six of ya heading off to now?"

"Well we were heading to a party somewhere in New York City, care to join?"

"Doctor, it seems to me that agent James Bond ditched me for god knows what, so what about I'll ditch giving him his mandatory drivers test?"

Moneypenny looked at him, winking slyly.

"So come on in, I've got tea and some of the Eastern Kingdom's finest meats. Enjoy the ride."

The Doctor charismatically responded, ushering in Moneypenny and closing the same blue doors before the TARDIS dematerialized into thin air, heading to New York City.

* * *

Back at the party, everyone in attendance was enjoying the party in a carefree attitude. It was going to be legendary, civilians and heroes alike from Harlem to Weehawken were going to hear about the events that unfolded in Midtown Manhattan by early morning. The majority of the guests were either intoxicated or asleep by the time the TARDIS materialized in the main bar of Stark Tower.

"'Ello New York City! Oh-"

The Doctor looked in horror as he saw the partied out attendees in the main focal point of the celebrations. The mood was tiring, seeing all the guest's eyes shut tight and the host burnt out with the DJ, surprisingly Parappa who managed to be booked. As he strode over to one end of the bar, two college students of Columbia University were there. Alex "Alexander" Hamilton and John Laurens, both drunk with vague mummers of Alex's love life.

"Alex? It's me, your social sciences professor."

The Doctor shook Alexander. He warily opened his eyes at the time-lord.

"Doctor, is that really you? I swear I could have seen Lafayette…"

Pliskin had jolted awake after hearing someone speak. Pliskin had never enjoyed a magnitude of such extravagance in his late teenage years.

"Doctor?"

He said quite amusingly,

"Dammit, it's been a while! How've you been?"

Pliskin said, slurring his words.

"Don't mind Tony or McCree, or Parappa. He's extremely hard to book. Student at NYU."

A mage portal suddenly manifested to the three whom were awake. Archmage Khadgar, the leader of the combined coalition forces during the Magumma Offensive and the War on Draenor made a sudden appearance.

"Doctor, Pliskin. Mr. Hamilton. It is good to see you all."

Khadgar introduced, speaking in his eloquent tone. He looked down at the oversized couch, eyeing Reinhardt.

"I take that you've been partying hard this morning? Well, I have you know that I am the life of the party. But I digress. There is something of urgent matter I must speak with you all. And I mean awake."

"I have already spoken to the leaders of the Alliance, Horde, Tyrian and Middle Earthen governments, yet Tamriel and Westeros have refused to listen once more. Only Skyrim and High Rock are mobilizing at this moment. The Burning Legion has returned once more I am afraid."

He said with such horror, slamming his staff, Atiesh on the marble floor.

"I don't understand! The Moscow Incident, four years ago, Archimonde's death at Draenor! I thought the Legion was defeated for good!"

Pliskin responded, putting on his signature blue hoodie on.

"That's why I have come, we don't have much time before the invasion of your Earth, Azeroth and the Galaxy commences.

The four of them looked with at each other with concern. Each one of them holding a certain degree of anxiety within them.

"Wake the others, I must speak with Stark and possibly Xavier… we need to activate another Recall…"

* * *

Elsewhere in London, Bond and tracer entered the building, walking up its stairs and striding up into the lobby. They glanced everywhere, looking for a twenty-something year old geek with his gaming laptop out. The two of them searched everywhere, looking around the club's gilded lobby. They spotted a fairly young looking man sitting in a velvet bench near the restroom, apparently waiting for someone.

"Bond? Tracer?"

Q suddenly asked, shaking their hands as they walked to him.

"I'm just waiting for Wol- There he is now…"

He added, backing up a bit as Wolf O'Donnell walked out of the restroom, putting on his black leather motorcycle gloves.

"Hey there."

Wolf simply said to the trio, giving a bit of a sly salute, carrying a briefcase that had Tracer's laptop.

"Miss Oxton, your laptop."

Wolf bluntly said, giving a bit of a scowl.

"Aww, come on Wolf! Smile a bit!"

The Overwatch agent said, hugging Wolf from his waist. The wolf only grunted deeply as Tracer finished cuddling him.

"Now, can we get somethin' to eat? Q and I have been waitin' here since nine."

The four of them walked to the left of the lobby, waiting in line for a seat on the top floor of the club.

"So, how've you been James? Seen London recently?"

"I don't know about that Wolf. He's been back in the states working with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"That must be fun…"

Wolf muttered, rolling his eyes a bit.

The line eventually reached them, the four of them were crammed into an art deco styled elevator, and made their way to the top of the building. The view was exhilarating, it almost seemed as you could take off and glide off the floor if you wanted to. The entire skyline was visible, King's Row, Victoria Tower, the old MI6 building, everything was at a person's fingertips. They ordered their meals, a New York style steak for Wolf and Bond and a simple tomato and lettuce salad for Q and Tracer. Surprisingly they managed to strike up a small conversation.

After a while, Q checked his phone, the one thing he couldn't live without besides his cats and laptop. He couldn't turn it on, no matter how many times he could press the button. It was unresponsive, however Q managed to take out the battery and place it back in, with a purple skull the only thing displayed on the screen of his phone.

"Everyone, check your phones. Now."

Q said, briefly glancing up.

The other three complied and checked their smartphones, annoyed after being disrupted from their conversation. The same purple skull manifested, flickering and bouncing throughout the screen.

"You better explain what the 'ell is going on Q."

Wolf growled at the technician.

A lone message appeared on the screens, it taunted them, reading, "Want to play a game? We got one right now."

After that message faded, a panicked scream could be heard, followed by a stampeding crowd of frenzied patrons. Blaster noises could be heard, the ones of Separatist Droids.

"Droids? How the hell could they be here on Earth?"

Tracer shouted, readying herself for a fight.

"I don't know, but we got to get out of this, alive."

Bond responded, drawing his pistol, Wolf and Q following him.

* * *

Back in New York, after a meager amount of time to gather everyone awake, the Archmage began to address the crowd, an aura of seriousness clouding him.

"Everyone, I know how you feel. We are outnumbered, outmanned, outpowered! But we simply cannot let the Legion roll over us as the Jungle Dragon attempted to do. We need to act now. We must mobilize!"

Khadgar exclaimed, a desperate plea for help.

"Archmage! How dare you let the Horde back in Dalaran without MY permission! The Six will hold you responsible for this!"

Jaina yelled in returned, Reinhardt and Rytlock holding her back.

"You will regret this action! The Horde WILL stab you in the back! I warned you!"

The female mage teleported away, the restraints on her once again feeling like air again.

"You know, she does have a point. Jaina has repeatedly been betrayed by the Horde."

Tony Stark remarked, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"This isn't the time Stark. Captain, how long until the Avengers and X-Men can mobilize to be deployed onto the Broken Shore?"

Pliskin sighed, and then turned to Steve Rogers.

Sly and Nathan drake had decided to go up to Tony's room in search of a prototype Arc Reactor that had Fel infused magic in it, crucial technology that could be used to combat the Legion. Rytlock and Wolf London were bored, burnt out by the monotonous conversations about the Burning Legion. Wolf checked his phone as he had nothing to do until the next morning, fly out to San Fransisco and meet up with Jack Morrison and Muradin Bronzebeard. The purple skull on Bond's and Tracer's phones had showed up on his. He couldn't recognize the technology, but indeed recognized it as a trademark of a God A.I. an extremely powerful sentient A.I construct, something that only the Forerunners or Reapers could create.

"Hey, have you seen this?"

London had leaned over to Rytlock.

"Yeah, getting' that too. Don't tell me it's _her_ again."

"I'm sure you know what I mean Rytlock. Everyone! Check any technology you have! Phones, tablets, television or computers, we're under cyber attack by Sombra!"

London yelled, ripping out the battery from his phone as he turned into his Worgen form.

The party frantically pulled out everything they had; messages appearing taunting or shaming them. "You shouldn't have done that" or "Try and catch me now" were below every single message on every single device. A buzzing noise could be heard, something very faint that only Rytlock and London could pick up.

"She- She's tryin' to broadcast something!"

London shouted.

The message was straightforward. A feminine voice being heard throughout Stark Tower and the club Bond and his allies were in.

"You should have sealed me when you could. Omnics, synths, they will answer to me and the Legion… You all love playing games… _Why don't you play a real one_?"

The situation only escalated. Everyone's devices were slowly succumbing to the corruption; even Khadgar's magic bound pocket watch turned black, its quartz case fogged with black color. Pliskin's digital watch only displayed a purple skull as well; the projector built in projecting the purple skull. Tracer's laptop overheated, her laptop out of commission again; Sombra's calling card the only visible.

"Someone do something! I can only handle my watch and my phone!"

Pliskin cried out, articulating his watch and phone.

"I'm trying! Friday, override every process in the building."

Tony ordered, running down into his laboratory.

"Much obliged sir, estimated time of completion, forty minutes."

The uncorrupted A.I. responded.

The Doctor had already fled, the TARDIS dematerializing before their sights; a desperate attempt to save the creature which was successful. As if it was arranged much like a grand party, everyone's phones went blank. The electronic devices normalized.

"Why don't we play that game now?"

The feminine voice said.

An explosion was heard, Sly and Drake witnessing it from Tony's room upstairs.

"Vertibird! And an… Overwatch Quinjet?"

The quinjet fired bullets into the room, Drake and Sly narrowly avoiding it by jumping down under the bed. Clothes, papers, wine bottles flew everywhere as the sound of a loud vibration shook the room, small holes dotted the room; the quinjet targeting the only people who could warn the guests of the impending attack.

"Brace yourselves…"

Khadgar warned, casting a protective ward. Rumbling was heard. The vibrations were felt. Then it happened, bullets rained through the main floor, it tore through glass windows, a knife through butter. Everyone ducked as the rounds pierced through, the quinjet crashing through, shards flying everywhere, disapating into sand as it hit Khadgar's violet barrier. Khadgar lowered the barrier, seemingly having its job done. This was only the first wave as the quinjet and the vertibird docked on opposite edges of the floor, 20 droids and synths emerged on both sides as Tony got into his Mark 42 armor and shot down the vertibird with one swift repulsor beam.

"Get down!"

He yelled, another beam pulsating from his hand.

The beam hit two droids, their heads instantly disintegrating as the 18 relentlessly pushed on. Reinhardt, Rytlock, Khadgar and Pliskin took on the droids heading in from the west side of the floor while Tony quickly pivoted and faced the east side, covering Wolf London, Chen and the Frye Twins. Gunshots echoed and metal and steel clashed, dark orange sparks springing up much like a Fourth of July firework show. Sohothin met Genosian steel as they clashed, the legendary sword of Rytlock Brimstone sowing fire upon the droids. Reinhardt's mighty hammer crashed on the droids, the weapon of justice itself the last glimpses of the world for the droids. Pliskin leaped from the giant's shoulder, his batons stunning and shutting down the droids one by one, great bolts of energy seismically moving through a row of five droids.

Chen Stormstout's attacks blurred the synths' field of view, the monk moved like the wind as his keg smashed on their chests. London rapidly fired six shots into six precise areas of one synth; its machinery visible before it fell and collapsed. Items were tossed and turned as the rag tag group combated the rogue machines, a mighty battle that was fought, later ending in victory. The aftermath however wasn't one that you'd expect from an epic night of partying; the most expensive china, reduced to meager pieces on the floor, the ice sculpture on the foyer, decapitated as a stray bullet precisely went through its neck.

"As if ze Battles of New York had just occurred before my eyes…"

Reinhardt remarked, sighing as he rested his hammer on his shoulder.

"Sombra… Sombra… Aha! Pliskin follow me!"

He'd gesture to the boy in the blue jacket.

"What now?"

Pliskin responded, dropping a droid's head on the floor before taking off with the crusader.

"Well, wonder how the organization is going to react to this…"

"Tony. You've better look at this…"

Steve responded to him, gesturing him to look at the barely functional television, away from his sulking.

" _Reports of major outages have been coming in from cities such as London, Paris, San Francisco, Irvine, and New York. Major Overwatch and S.H.I.E.L.D. Watchpoints are also reporting the same difficulties. A club in London was also the victim of these hacks by a vigilante named "Sombra" Luckily, the hack was successfully repulsed by Overwatch agent Tracer and ace pilot Wolf O'Donnell with the help of two other civilians…"_

The newscaster reported with a stern face on her.

" _Here is Overwatch agent Tracer for a firsthand account of that attack in the club in Central London…"_

"It was as almost everyhin' had shut down and went back on! But our devices weren't working! And there were droids and a battle emerged, fortunately we were able to defend the club and get its systems back on track!"

Tony continued to sulk as he watched the television, amazed at Tracer's positivity throughout the disaster.

"We aren't going to roll over… the Legion is coming, and she's back. This is the hunt for Sombra…"

 **THE HUNT FOR SOMBRA.**

 **A MULTI FANDOM CROSSOVER.**


	2. Our Shot

Chapter 2:

Our Shot:

Stark Tower

After the God A.I program had hacked the system, fled into the Internet and the attack by some old Separatist Droids and synths, probably from Boston, it was clear that another fight was brewing. Glasses of aged wine, the ice statues, and the counters were all overturned; a cluttered mess as a result of the attack. Bullet casings and bullet holes littered the penthouse of Stark Tower, shattered glass now on the streets, police and cleaners now arriving at the scene.

"So, that happened."

Sly said, his head peeking out of Stark's closet.

"Well, I never expected another age of Ultron. I'd honestly expect a company like Skynet to do that sort of shit."

Nathan Drake responded, entering Stark's room.

"Look, I was just on a vacation to Courscant, the last thing I need to hear is that twenty-year-old droids are attacking Earth. We don't need another Covenant-Human War."

Sly got up, looking back at him after putting his navy blue newsboy hat back on.

"You're right but, this "Sombra" fellow, I don't know if she's legitimately trying to drive another wedge. We don't need another Civil War am I right? So come on Sly, we need to get back downstairs."

The two of them sprung out from Tony's room, running down a spiral staircase back to the lobby of the penthouse, then jumping through shattered glass to see Rytlock, Captain America, Tony Stark and Professor Xavier, the latter having just arrived. Rytlock waved his fiery sword, embers floating diffusing from it but not burning anything it their grasp.

"Good, you're down here now. Don't know 'bout that attack though, got to inform the Black Citadel and the rest of Tyria notified so we can try and shut down some wires."

Rytlock informed, sheathing his sword.

"Tony, do you know where Reinhardt and Pliskin ar-"

"We're getting reports from London, Gibraltar, and San Francisco, they've been taken down as well; and our good ol' Professor here has something to say about this."

"Very well; When the Omnic Crisis ended six years ago and you were still working for your father's business and Azeroth's nations, realms, and kingdoms were in the midst of the second Burning Legion invasion, we locked up these "God A.I's. deep inside the deep web."

"We spread out these data codes, however this "Sombra," is intending to have us play a game. The clues are hidden far and wide, as far away as Corneria I suppose. However there is one clue in New York, that's why Pliskin and Reinhardt are down in the Park.

* * *

The duo was in the park near the castle, it was six o'clock in the morning, the sun barely rising over the skyline of New York City. The fallen leaves were now a bright orange, covering the castle grounds. The air, a bit chill with a few clouds hung up in the air.

"Say Reinhardt, what do you mean by "clue?"

"Vell, when I fought with the very first Overwatch strike team when we were not a full blown division, we imprisoned zhese "God A.I."

Reinhardt said, looking down at Pliskin.

"It vas spread throughout our galaxy, every possible fragment now in the hands of six locations three of them her on Earth, one in Tyria, one on the Eastern Kingdoms, and one on Coruscant."

Reinhardt scoured the castle's walls, Pliskin instead looking towards the Manhattan skyline. He appeared to be searching for something, a keyhole of sorts. This keyhole was indeed shaped into the Cooper Clan's infamous insignia, a golden question mark bent at angles, instead it was reversed, a brown variant that looked incredibly fake in able to dissuade people like Sombra. He placed his large hands against the wall, pressing against the great stone blocks.

As if on que, a great rumble shook the castle, as if an earthquake had just occurred.

"I think that vas it…"

Reinhardt said, wary of his surroundings.

* * *

Back at Stark Tower,

Three charr from the Blood Legion had arrived, among them the High Impeator of the Legion, Bagnar Ruinbringer. Bangar was on equal height and mass with Rytlock, his armor painted blood red to intimidate those who'd dare cross his path. He had a certain scowl to his face, always acting in that demeanor in comparison to Rytlock's wittier attitude. The other two charr were nothing more than lowly soldiers in service to Bangar, equipping only simple steel armor in plain grey color. The portal that the charr had arrived from closed, the mage who summoned it retreating through it.

"Tribune Brimstone, it's an honor to see you face to face again."

The impeator said, bowing his head slightly.

"As for you,"

Rytlock responded, unwrapping his temporary blindfold to shake Bangar's hand.

"Why the hell are you here? I'm here on business regarding the Burning Legion."

"I'm also here on my business. And you're coming with me on the orders of the Black Citadel."

Rytlock laughed, expecting something much worse.

"You gotta be kidding me; I'm confirmed to be missing in _action_ Bangar."

"The Black Citadel never recorded you to be MIA, Rytlock. You're coming with us or you and these interlopers are going to have their guts gutted out."

Bangar replied, directly threatening everyone in the room.

"Now, what if I come with Rytlock?"

Stark said, rudely and humorously interrupting.

"Your guts would be gutted; before being put on trial for assisting a deserter."

"Now look! I'm no deserter, and I don't want to spill any blood here; I'd probably slicing the two of you before requiring any help from the rest of us."

Rytlock said, pointing at the two grunts; gulping in fear.

"I'll go,"

Rytlock added, sheathing Sohothin.

"Don't want any of my friends to get hurt."

"Be prepared to face the Black Citadel's judgement when you get there."

Bangar chuckled, handcuffing Rytlock.

"Rytlock, I hope you know what you're doing."

Laurens said.

"I know what I'm doin', tell Pliskin what happened; I need him at the Black Citadel as soon as possible. I have a plan to get me out of this mess.:

"Very well then, I'll open a portal to the Black Citadel then,"

Khadgar interrupted, casting a spell that opened a rift between Earth and Azeroth.

"We will see you again Rytlock, come back as quickly as possible, we need you for what happens next."

The four charr walked through the portal, dissipating into air as the portal collapsed. The room was silent again, Steve grabbing a broom and handing it to Nate. Everyone began to clean up the party in silence, Nate, Sly, Steve and Khadgar cleaning up the glass, the mage using arcane energy to create an arcane defender to defend the Tower. Chen, Xavier, and Tony discussed plans to head to Paris and San Francisco to investigate the hackings.

"What about the Doctor? He just ran inside the TARDIS only for it to dematerialize during the skirmish."

Chen asked.

"I believe he knows what he's doing. Once he saw the droids he knew exactly to head to Coruscant. He knows that the Galactic Senate has something to do with this; luckily we have the UNSC and UFP to help with what's going on over there."

Professor Xavier retorted.

"Where's Wolf London? I thought he was here earlier?"

Tony said, looking around the bar floor.

"He already left. He's flying his plane to Paris at this moment to meet up with Bond, O'Donnell, Arno, and Tracer."

"Should we activate the recall notice right now Professor?"

"No, not yet Tony, we need Logan to fix the transponder, then we can broadcast the message; anyways, I wonder how long Pliskin and Reinhardt are going to take…"

* * *

The castle's cellars were underexplored for a structure that has been standing for only a hundred and fifty years in Gregorian Years. Cobwebs were growing everywhere, the supports rotten as the duo descended through a secret passageway that only Reinhardt seem to remember.

Pliskin held a torch; taking a spare stick and ripping an old curtain then using a lighter set it on fire, the embers floating away gracefully; much to Reinhardt's dismay. The two of them progressed further into the castle, they saw old tapestries, battles that depicted vivid battles with dragons, wolves, lions, and a variety of mythical creatures.

"This seems to be the mead hall, so much liquor was stored here I suppose."

Pliskin quietly said, waving his torch to illuminate the Hall.

"Hmm, I suppose you're right; there's banners everyvhere…"

Reinhardt added.

The duo continued on; Reinhardt discovering or rediscovering a hidden passage to the cellar.

"Aha! I remember now… It's over here now…"

The cellar was in an incredibly ruined state, the casks once holding the most flavorful alcohol now containing only dust. A single skeleton was there to Pliskin's horror; as for Reinhardt, he simply picked it up and threw it away, the skeleton still clutching onto a cask.

"That vas the person who was supposed to guard what's stored here. He was a general in the Minutemen. Name was McGann."

"Now… it should be over here…"

Reinhardt muttered, rummaging through old, displaced casks and crates. He punched one cask, clear and through, the seal on it falling to the floor as aged alcohol spilled on the floor. He saw what laid ahead of the cask.

"Aha… I found it…"

He pulled out a black book. Its jet black cover resonating with dark magic, one that would seem familiar with a dark witch or wizard.

"What, what is this?"

Pliskin curiously asked, looking at what he had in his hands.

"I dunno my friend, once we sealed Sombra away all she left away was this book; it has nothing written in it, nor outside it."

"I hope that thing isn't what I think it is. A death note. If Sombra is an AI, she can hypothetically use the book to kill anyone and use that body as a host. That book needs to be burned right now."

Pliskin responded, gesturing his torch to the book.

"You're indeed right, but how would Sombra be able to use the book?"

"A servant of hers. Look, the Legion has servants of their own, wouldn't Sombra have some of her own? Now I think we need to decrypt the book; we can have a paladin coat the book with some holy magic so we can send it to Gibraltar…"

"Now I know what you're saying, come! I will ask the Doctor when he returns to purify this artifact."

The duo ran back upstairs, past the mead hall and outside into the fresh fall air. It was now around eight o'clock in the morning, people rushing to work, and people rushing to the park to enjoy the clean air. As the duo walked back to Stark Tower the two of them noticed the crashed vertibird and quinjet blocking East 45th Street. News reporters were on the scene, many of them syndicating at the moment.

Pliskin caught eye of Piper Wright, news reporter originally from Boston and supporter of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. The duo only waved to her as she waved back, remembering the two of them after what transpired in Stuttgart and Berlin earlier that year. They showed their Overwatch IDs to enter the building, two officers cowering a bit as they reluctantly entered Stark Tower with the book in hand.

What they saw was a much more, less lively scene with everyone that had remained a breakfast cooked by Cap and Tony.

"So, you two have been busy I see. Where have you been?"

Steve asked, flipping a pancake over as Chen and Sly watched.

"We, erm, found an Artifact in the cellar of Belvedere Castle… Reinhardt, show them what we found."

Everyone in the room fell silent as they laid their eyes on the black book Reinhardt pulled out. Quotes ranging from disbelief to outright anger at Reinhardt.

"Did you really have to bring a demonic book into this building,"

Tony asked.

"Also, how did you manage to hide it for six and a half years?"

Reinhardt sighed deeply, he looked around at everyone, then eyeing Pliskin.

"Let me tell you. About the day we sealed Sombra away."

"It vas one of the last battles of the Omnic Crisis actually; it was in an Aztec ruin, on the Yucatan Peninsula on an October. The sky was hazy, the sun blood red as it set over the center temple."

"The weather vas humid; the climate making my fellow crusaders and I hot in their armor."

He recounted the events that day; how everything went down with Sombra. He was with a fireteam of Crusaders, him being the leader. The ground forces had directly landed on the beach, advancing through the gunfire and artillery barrages created by the ominics as Reinhardt put it.

"We treaded through the swamp on the southern end of the ruin, the mud soiling our armor, caking it in layers of mud and dirt and making us move entirely slow. We eventually made it to the ruin, we saw the fire fight unfold before us, planes and ships bombarded the ruins in an effort to destroy the omnics."

Reinhardt slowly said, retelling each event slowly with emotion.

"We didn't know why we were dispatched on that end of the Ruin. We expected to charge in head first with the rest of the army; instead we did what a rogue would do, sneak through mud quickly and quietly."

"It was only then what I saw what needed to be done, inside the magnificent pyramid housed an A.I. more powerful than anyone had imagined being charged with energy from a strange ritual at the top."

"Reinhardt, I don't remember this battle from six years ago. I wasn't told anything about this."

Steve Rogers responded, interrupting his story.

"They don't call zhis the, "Lost Battle of Mexico" for a reason Steve. Anyways, ve charged up the stairs of the temple, shells and gunfire landing everywhere as we pushed ourselves to the limit. There, we saw what was going on; a computer was hooked to this little girl who vas already dead unfortunately."

"I was already confused and horrified beyond belief on what was going on, they planned on transferring an A.I. to this empty body. I charged at the computer, destroying it as the ritual stopped. But that vas not all."

"I saw the person performing the ritual, a short man, shorter than Pliskin. His eyes had deep, black marks, his hair was a black mess in addition to his plain white shirt. He dropped that black book before turning into a shadow himself, and I picked it up. End of story."

Reinhardt concluded, sighing deeply at the end.

"Interesting, but why didn't you turn in that book to S.H.I.E.L.D, Overwatch or at least SI:7 or the UNSC?"

Alex asked, focusing deeply on the story.

"I couldn't trust them with power that could be as mystical or dark in that book. I traveled to that castle down in Central and hid it deep within it, burying as many casks and alcohol that I owned to dissuade people from stealing them."

"Zhat's why I am trusting you with the book Captain. Guard that book with all your life and never surrender that book to anyone, regardless of how much you trust or despise him or her."

"Now, let's eat!"

Reinhardt boomed, recovering from the dark story and returning to his usual, over the top attitude.

"Where's Rytlock, I'd thought he'd still be here."

Pliskin wondered, eyeing everyone at the bar table and in the lounge.

"Oh yes, I forgot, Pliskin; Rytlock is currently at the Black Citadel. He is currently waits for you to come and visit him. He erm, has plans."

Khadgar added.

Pliskin sighed, he didn't want to get involved with anything crazy involved, however, he still wanted to concentrate on Sombra and taking her down instead of hosting a backyard cook off that failed miserably with Rytlock, Rox and Canach.

"Fine. I'll go. Khadgar will you please open a portal to the _Black_ Citadel? I still remember when you teleported me to the _Citadel._ Commander Shepard wasn't that happy with me dropping into her apartment unannounced."

Pliskin reluctantly said, slyly poking at Khadgar.

"Whatever you say Pliskin, now just walk through whenever you wish."

He hugged Reinhardt; Reinhardt hugging him even tighter.

"I'll see you soon Reinhardt, it won't take that long, and I won't take that long."

"Right on Pliskin! And remember, don't waste your shot!"

Reinhardt replied, waving at the boy as he walked through the portal.

The mage also disappeared through another portal, this time one to Stormwind as everyone watched Khadgar summon and walk through another portal, telling everyone that he had important business regarding King Varian Wrynn.

"So where to now? How are we gonna take her down now?"

Sly asked, Nathan and Chen nodding their heads in return.

"You, Nathan, Elena, Reinhardt, Snake, and the Cap will head to San Francisco to investigate the most recent hacking. We will enlist the help of that area's Assassin Brotherhood to assist you."

Professor Xavier responded, turning his wheelchair to face them.

"Me, Tony, Chen, and the Frye twins will meet up with James, O'Donnell, London, Q and Tracer in Paris, as I've told you, London is already flying his jet to Paris at the moment."

"As for you, Laurens, Alex, you will need to do research on computer science, persuade Herc, Lafayette, George, and Angelica to help study wi-"

"But we aren't computer science students Professor! We're Political Science students and I want to fight, not write!"

"I know, I know. But you two are the only ones who are at an actual college who can handle the task of researching and writing. So Hamilton, I am entrusting the ownership of this, "Death Note" to you."

Xavier addressed the two of them, taking the book from Steve with Reinhardt's approval and handing it to Alex.

"So whatever you do with that book, absolutely do not touch, misprint, or write inside that book. Do not even dare to open it even."

The two of them ran out of the room and into the elevator, desperate to catch a cab to Columbia. Everyone in the room looked at each other before everyone parted ways. Captain America's group down the stairs; Tony's remaining in the bar.

"Alright team. There is one thing I have in mind right now. We aren't going to waste our shot. This is our chance, perhaps our only one. Make it count everyone."

 _Make sure to review and follow: The Hunt for Sombra_


	3. Through Moon and Shadow

Chapter 3:

Through Moon and Shadow:

Inside the TARDIS

The TARDIS had managed to dematerialize in time as the Doctor managed to flee the skirmish before getting hit or the Time Machine getting destroyed. They were now far away from New York; orbiting around Earth and catching a glimpse of Mars and its glimmering colonies, the asteroid belt and their stations, and the planet of Azeroth, the maelstrom dotting the Neptune-sized planet with the continents of Kalimdor, Tyria, Westeros, Arda, Tamriel, Hyrule, the Eastern Kingdoms, and many more according to scholars in Dalaran.

The 11th Doctor opened the doors of his glossy blue time machine and viewed space and all of its wonders as he sat down on the edge. It all felt incredibly surreal to him as a UNSC Cargo Frigate zoomed past the TARDIS, the ripples of its hyperdrive able to be felt all the way from the machine. This was his home. The Doctor could live for all he wanted to and never fully catalog this galaxy and the others in the Great Dark Beyond. That is why he ran away, or so he thought. He escaped Gallifrey all those years ago with his granddaughter; to get away from the drag of a considerable, "normal" life teaching children. He disregarded that thought, having children bound to a school, learning things that wouldn't be connected to anything that they wanted to do in life.

That is why he ran away. Only to escape. The Doctor continued on to gaze at the stars, planets and ships all traversing the large empty realm called space, or the Great Dark Beyond to people in Azeroth. Amelia Pond, the first person he'd ever met in this "life" walked up to him and sat parallel to him, gazing at the Great Dark.

"I've always dreamed of being an explorer since I was little. A normal life with Rory was all that I asked for, but I got what I wanted right here, right now."

Amy said, gazing at the Maelstrom of Azeroth.

"What do you know about Coruscant?"

The Doctor asked inquisitively, as if he had a spontaneous thought.

"I'm sorry, but what,"

Amy responded, confused.

"I haven't been to the Inner Rim in ages! Do you think what happened on Mustafar and Naboo would have a profound effect on Rory and I?"

"That's where we're heading, to Coruscant! Oh it's just like New York, but as an entire planet! We'll get to see droids, synth- "

"So is that why we're heading there Doctor?"

Clara interrupted, coming with Rory and Marius.

"Yes, in fact, I know someone over there on the planet that may be of some gratuitous assistance to our current predicament."

The Doctor replied, hurrying over to the console.

He'd press some random buttons on the centurial device; confusing to a human but incredibly precise to a Time Lord or an extraterrestrial of heightened knowledge. And then they were off, hurdling faster than the speed of light into the Inner Rim, past Azeroth, Earth, and the Solar System of the Middle Rim of the Milky Way. Some shaking disturbed the guests of the TARDIS, and as if no time had passed, they were orbiting the planet of Coruscant; an entire city on one large planet.

The entire Galactic Empire had been thrown into chaos two years ago at the dawn of the Rebellion. The planet of Alderaan was nearly destroyed by something called the "Death Star", luckily, the Time Lords had masked the planet away, much like they did with Gallifrey, leaving only an asteroid field to dissuade the Empire. Coruscant was one of these planets that was a beacon of the rebellion; the Galactic Empire having moved the capital to a different planet a year ago.

"Ah! Coruscant, look at it 1 Trillion beings all packed into one city. How amazing is that?"

"Doctor. I'd suggest we'd work quickly. There's been communication interruptions in Overwatch Watchpoints and MI6 safehouses as well."

Moneypenny said, looking at news updates on her smartwatch.

"Oh, come on, can't you enjoy a time off with us? Besides it's Marius and Cosette's anniversary; I asked a Sin'Dorei mage and an Asuran engineer who lives on the planet to help prepare a cake-"

"We need to act fast."

The Doctor sighed in response.

"Very well then. And you may encounter some droids in their apartment. I guarantee you Moneypenny. This will not take one bit or you can take one of my bowties."

The Doctor responded, pointing directly at a box directly below the console.

"Be warned everyone, we are dematerializing at this moment."

* * *

The Black Citadel,

The Ruins of Ascalon,

Pliskin arrived just outside of Hero's Canton to some friendly greetings of Ash and Iron Legion grunts. He stared directly at the spherical structure ahead of him, the Imperator's Core. He walked through the scent of steel and sulfur as he entered the core. Engineers and Warriors were busy inside, either tinkering with machines or fixing up M4 Sherman tanks downstairs. Pliskin walked upstairs, catching a glimpse of one Tyock Quickshot, a brilliant engineer yet a formidable warrior brush past him briefly; the charr only waving to him as he walked near the dark grey gates leading up to the core. The guards at the command core hastily delivered Rytlock's message to him; essentially telling him to wait near the door until he was commanded to be brought in.

It took ages for him to wait for clearance to get in and converse with the imperators. He had to first get questioned for any demonic activity then he had to pass an eye exam after showing his S.H.I.E.L.D/Overwatch I.D. much to Rytlock's annoyance. Furthermore, he needed to wait for another 30 minutes in able to enter the actual core.

"What do you mean I'm stripped of my rank? I never deserted the Citadel!"

"Rytlock, you had left and pursued that sword instead of resigning your commission before pursuing it."

"Smodur, do you think I was able to sign an official document, appoint a successor, leave my warband, and then pursue a sword that had disappeared through a portal that only lasted around five seconds according to soldiers who were there?"

Rytlock yelled, throwing documents across the command table.

"What more do you want? "War Hero Tribune Rytlock Brimstone helps slay Jungle Dragon!" War Hero Tribune Rytlock Brimstone helps teach cubs about- "What else do you want from me?"

"Rytlock. We can't have a charr like you that has considerable influence over the warbands become an example to the legions that it is okay to _desert._ "

Pliskin overheard the conversation involving the charr. "Desertation?" "Stripped?" What could that mean? Pliskin thought. If it had anything to do with the Magumma Offensive, he'd be quick to defend Rytlock over his actions.

A Black Citadel guard walked towards Pliskin and gestured him to enter the core. Even more arguments erupted after he'd entered the core, Rytlock even plunging his sword into the table.

"Good, you're here. Now tell this fool for a charr that I did not desert Blood Legion during the rise of th-"

"DESERTATION is the action of illegal leaving the armed forces Rytlock how many times do we need to remind you!"

Smodur yelled, throwing more papers down on the table.

"Now look, Rytlock did his job during the Magumma Offensive very well, he rescued my team in the jungle after our plane had crashed, helped gather information at Rata Novus, and things that I can't even mention. Isn't that enough for someone to attain the title of Tribune?"

Pliskin responded, trying to persuade Smodur and Bangar with Rytlock in approval.

"The kid said it all. I don't want this escalating to a full on Litany of Combat."

"If you dare invoke the Litany of Combat the-"

"Alright! I had enough of this! I demand to settle this honorably, with or without a fair trial. Bangar Ruinbringer, I challenge you to a duel!"

Rytlock exclaimed, drawing his sword from the table and pointing it at the charr with an arrogant look.

"You can't challenge me to a duel. According to Section 17 of the Articles of Dueling in Tyria, no common man can challenge anyone of rank to a duel. And with that, your rank as Tribune of Blood Legion has been stripped as of today. Congratulations."

"Escort this traitorous charr to the prison level. And Pliskin, be thankful that I didn't order for your head to be chopped off and paraded around the Citadel."

Bangar said as Rytlock reluctantly was handcuffed and followed down into the lower sanctums of the core.

Pliskin could only make out a few words from Rytlock as he was dragged back downstairs only for him to see him say,

'Meet, down."

He had a clever idea in his head, and he wasn't going to through away it as he covertly snuck down the core. He'd use the ID Tyock lent him six months earlier and entered the prisons with one simple scan of the ID. He'd peer through the steam and mist generated by the generators below the prisons. Pliskin decided that he couldn't directly speak to Rytlock at that moment, instead resorting to hiding in an inconspicuous soapbox until the hour was necessary.

* * *

Coruscant,

Level 4321

"Hello, Zane'as and Snipk, I trust that the two of you have had a reasonable time here on Coruscant."

The Doctor asked, sharking their hands.

"Well, for one, my _apprentice_ and I are doing extremely well here. Second, do you know how hard it is to obtain arcane infused crystals from Azeroth here? The price for transporting is skyrocketing, I must admit."

The mage responded, nodding at the Asura.

Everyone inside the TARDIS,walked out and viewed the early morning sunrise over the planet, the Jedi Temple faintly visible over the horizon. The city exactly reminded all of them about how New York City was; grand, exquisite, and majestic. The group followed the duo upstairs to their living room, Level 4322 according to the city's principles. It was moderately decorated, the main couch and love seat in a modernistic style, white and black with a persion rug, imported from Earth. There was a balcony to the left, facing the main city, the opera hall, and the former Senate Hall, now converted to a training facility.

Rory Williams walked out to the balcony with his wife, Amy. They locked their hands together and viewed the sunrise together while The Doctor and everyone else sat down and began to discuss.

"Amy, have you ever considered settling down, away from all of this? Anywhere I suppose I guess."

Her spouse asked her, glancing to the sun.

"I don't suppose so Rory, how about you?"

She responded.

"What about just leaving all of these problems behind? Living a normal life with River and the others, vacationing to New York and Paris every other weekend with the Doctor?"

"Rory, is it just because of what happened? Is it just because you want a normal life?"

Amy gently replied.

"I guess, but I want to settle down, this Sombra business isn't that exciting for me. And if we do actually have a child, a real one,"

Rory asked.

"Do we still send it to school?"

"Do you have to bring that up right now Rory? Of course we are; but not to junior or secondary, no, no, no. We're going to have that child choose his or her own path."

She'd laugh, gently gripping Rory's hand.

They'd walk back inside the parlor, the Doctor and the others deep in conversation.

"And so, how are you able to provide this information?"

The Doctor asked.

"I have a contact, one just downstairs in this complex and another one in Silvermoon. I'd assume that you'd prefer my friend in the apartments below. I'll ring him up now."

He'd get up from his chair and walk over to the phone, unaware of a misplaced shadow nearby. The blood elf was incredibly rushed when he was at the phone. He walked briskly to the foyer and took his seat again; picking up a glass of wine from a nearby counter.

"Wine anyone?"

Zane'as offered; instead receiving nods for a no.

"Very well then, now about that Sombra business, we have been studying this electronic magnetic pulse device that can directly shut down a specific A.I. for a few seconds; however, my apprentice has been studying to increase the potency of the device. I highly disagree with his methods; he's been using them on droids and anything he can get his hands on."

"But you do agree he is an extremely talented engineer yes?"

Cosette responded.

"I do; what makes you think I do not?"

"Well, I think that you can encourage him a bit more on what he is doing; if Snipk doesn't receive any encouragement from his master, then what should the Asura do then?"

"I suppose you're right; but let us move on from my personal life, are you not here for the device? I'll summon it to you Doctor."

The blood elf said, casting an arcane spell to bring the EMP downstairs.

It took the sin'dorei mage quite some mana in able to bring it down from the third level of his apartment. The contraption was incredibly huge; contained in a steel, rectangular box with two buttons, one red and one green, presumably for activating and deactivating the machine. The mage cast another spell, binding and transmuting the box into a portable one. It produced a silent noise as it was being shrunk, the contents inside of it, all there wires and switches shrinking its size yet growing longer simultaneously.

"Here we are, the EMP device is now the smallest I can possibly mold it to. Of course, I could go to much more minuscule definitions, but you know, you don't want anything at the sub atomic-"

The mage was shot in the back of his head with a dart. Everyone that was present in the room turned to their backs, towards the balcony and saw a sniper from a neighboring window.

"He's knocked out, but not dead yet. It's only a temporary solution I suppose…"

The Doctor investigated, removing the dart from the mage's head.

"What are you waitin' for? The assassin is getting away!"

Moneypenny yelled, pointing to the window where the shadowed figure was making its escape on an airspeeder.

"Alright, Amy, Rory with me into that airspeeder! Moneypenny, get on that speeder to the left of the airspeeder, we'll split up! Cosette and Marius, tend to Zane'as.

The Doctor ordered, jumping into the maroon colored airspeeder.

He'd activate the ship, proceeding to chase after the shadowed figure in the black speeder; Moneypenny flying below him.

"Hold on!"

The Doctor directed the airspeeder directly down into the planet's midday commune, millions of airspeeders and speeders breaking in their track.

"Doctor! I swear, do not do that agai-!"

Rory yelled as the ship performed another nosedive deeper into the planet in pursuit of the specter.

Moneypenny trailed them from above, keeping careful pace of the two speeders from Level 4010.

"Doctor,"

She'd radio in from her speeder.

"It's making another nosedive so it could land on that terrace!"

The Doctor complied, pulling the airspeeder into another long nosedive that seemed to last an eternity. The traffic was wholly disrupted; cars, speeders, and airspeeders were either thrown off track or were involved mid-aird air collision high above ground level.

He'd land the ship, jumping out of it and chasing the figure along with Amy and Rory.

"You what I am about to say, run!"

The three of them began to chase the shadow on foot, its cloak appearing to fall off the figure, thin pale white legs becoming visible to the three. The crowd moved away as the shadow desperately tried to find cover or blend in with the citizens.

"I've always wanted to try this thing…"

Rory muttered to himself, pulling out a small electronic magnet that would create a small forcefield, courtesy of the UNSC.

He'd throw the magnet in a wide angle, ahead of the figure, landing exactly on the figure's path. It generated a blue force field directly trapping it. The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver, the tip glowing green to deactivate and bind the shadow like figure.

"Now who are you,"

The Doctor asked, attempting to uncloak the figure.

"You!"

He'd exclaim, coming to realization.

"Gabriel Reyes. I thought we had you in custody. Seems like you escaped for the fourth time."

"Well, that cell wasn't deep enough to bury the dead."

Reyes responded, speaking in an extremely monotone voice.

"Why the hell are you in the Inner Rim if you're on the run? You'd better be off somewhere in Tatooine, gambling on some podrace."

Amy asked, ironically pulling out a water pistol from her sachel.

"That's a good question. I've come here to finish up some business with that blood elf and his idiot apprentice."

"So why didn't you kill him? Is there something you still need from them?"

Reaper looked around at the passing crowd that was brushing past the four of them, unaware of what was going on in the middle of a busy garden terrace. He'd know what to do; he was a liar, a damm good one at best.

"Sombra."

Was all he could reply, telling only a half lie in able to get away from this mess he'd made.

"How do you know about her?"

The Doctor held up his neck.

"Doctor, are you really going to-"

"Rory, now is not the time for questions."

"Where is this, "Sombra?" We need this information, quickly now. We can throw you in another Overwatch prison ce-"

"Alright, alright,"

Reaper sarcastically replied.

"Look for a person named L. He knows everything about her. I do not. Now hold up to your bargain."

The Doctor released Reaper, the assassin disappearing into the shadows.

Across the terrace, everyone continued to walk past them as if time stood still. Everyone ignored the altercation as if some presence was directing them away from the scene.

"Doctor, why did you-"

"Not now Amy. We have a shadow to catch."

He'd respond, holding up a white piece of paper with a stylized L on it.

"What do you know about a person named, "L?"

 ** _Review and follow, The Hunt for Sombra: A Multifandom Fanfiction._**


	4. Rewind

Chapter 4:

Rewind:

The Black Citadel,

"Rytlock. Rytlock. Hey, Rytlock!'

Pliskin exclaimed, peeking under the soapbox into his holding cell. Rytlock's cell was a rudimentary one at best, something fit for a simple grunt or even worse a lowly gladium; this had to be humiliating and damaging to Rytlock at the same time, a Tribune, reduced to nothing. It was shaped like one from the West Indies, an enlarged jib cage.

"What now? They'll notice you!"

Rytlock whispered, trying to keep his voice down.

"I'm gonna rescue you!"

"That ain't gonna happen, the grunts will be back, but I have a plan."

"Rytlock, I swear, I can't fight for you, It just doesn't work like that; besides Reinhardt and everyone else I know who could last in an arena are either working or doing something important."

"You're right Pliskin, but, have you considered dueling?"

Rytlock interjected.

"No. Rytlock, please, I am not going to shoot someone out of context for one's personal honor. This isn't Kalimdor, Tamriel, or the Eastern Kingdoms. This is putting someone's life on the line."

Pliskin responded, whispering at him.

"Pliskin, they're gonna execute me for dissertation. I can't demand a trial by combat, Phoenix Wright ain't here to help me. I can only duel my way out and I can't officially challenge Bangar. You can, however; what are you know, Second Lieutenant-?

"First actually."

"Well, Major is essentially a Tribune here, an Imperator, Colonel I believe. so I think you can challenge him."

Rytlock said.

"Rytlock, I've known you since I was thirteen and living on the streets of Lion's Arch. You allowed me to join you and Destiny's Edge to travel the world, and I never repaid you anything in return, but now is an exception."

"I've always refused the practice, but the only thing that is making me duel is my gratitude and friendship with you. So I'll do it."

Pliskin whispered, pulling out his pistol and handing it to Rytlock.

"Deal?"

"Deal. Now go, before they get to you, I'll inform you when I've challenged Bangar."

The 19-year-old sprinted off upstairs, throwing the box in a corner. He left the Citadel and made off for Hero's Canton, one of the only places he could actually get a room at. He showed a charr his ID and made off in a small room, decorated with gears, portraits, and relics of a time long gone. He fell on the bed, exhausted over that conversation and the time he spent waiting for Rytlock.

"Wonder what Sly, Reinhardt, and Nate are up to now…"

* * *

Pliskin thought, looking up at the steel plated ceiling above him.

San Fransisco,

Haight-Ashbury

"Play the tape again."

Steve commanded, pointing at the surveillance cameras.

The team had arrived at San Francisco following the worldwide hackings earlier that day. They were receiving more reports that Tokyo, Numbani, San Antonio, and Stuttgart got shut down in the past nine hours since they left.

"Cap, there's nothing here. All we see is the same footage of this place in Chinatown cutting to black then jumping to the live feed."

"Snake, you haven't seen the full thing yet. Play it again."

The tape constantly rewound in constant motion, playing footage of a man walking, stopping, the camera cutting to black, and displaying the live recording. It was a basement in an Assassin's House, the Assassin only 17-year-old that had worked with Pliskin during his horrible high school years after he went back to Earth. His parents didn't know that an entire family was living in the cellar, only being fooled into believing that they were here for a project while they were on vacation in Seattle. School for him was not a far sight away, he'd already gotten a job at a pharmacy, dropped out of high school, and got himself an associate's degree and today he was at work.

"See that right there?"

Steve pointed at the screen.

"No."

"It's a person, holding a detonator."

He replied.

The screen showed a man, walking briskly with something in his hand; pressing causing the screen to apparently turn black. The two inspected the screen closer, trying to find every bit of detail hidden within the footage.

"Isn't that Pliskin's old apartment?"

Snake inquired.

Steve rewound the tape for a final time, observing the background.

He pointed at the far right of the screen, gesturing to the sign that was faintly visible.

"That's Pliskin's old apartment; It still is abandoned, he left it exactly like that after the first Legion Invasion of Earth."

"You don't say?"

Snake sarcastically responded.

Pliskin's new apartment was in New York City, the closest place to Cornell that he could convince his adoptive parents, both of which are dead. It was larger than the one in San Fransisco, a two bedroom instead of one small studio. The old place contained a rudimentary office; the desk, situated in the center of the studio. The wall was decorated with old posters of Overwatch and filled with pictures of various places in Azeroth; King's Landing, Stormwind, Orgrimmar, the Imperial City, and plenty of others. In comparison to his residence on the 9th and 57th of Midtown West; his apartment on the corner of Columbus and Pacific was a mess in the eyes of Nathan Drake, Sly Cooper, and one of Pliskin's closest friends, Reinhardt Wilhelm.

The trio had just come back from getting groceries at a local grocery from the piers; instead of heading to the trimmings of Chinatown as a result of Nate receiving a Codec call from Snake, informing the three of them about their new findings. The crusader was able to get into his apartment through the help of a special a key the kid had specifically given him along with Rytlock, Sly, and Khadgar; the secondary person having lost his key during an escapede in Rio. What the three of them saw was an incredible mess; anything a tactical spy would ever have.

"Vell, it would be a long time since I've ever been in here."

Reinhardt muttered to himself, wandering around the studio.

They were on the third floor of the complex; a less expensive venture than moving up on the remaining two floors. It was around eight, the blood red sun already dripping on the horizon, the moon rising to wash away the blood. In their heads, the trio knew that each of them had to finish their business here as quick as possible, for the landlord was to report anything suspicious in the darkened hallways.

"Hang on, are these pictures?"

Nate asked, pulling one off of the gray studio wall.

A collage of photographs dotted the left wall of the studio. There were photographs of his time in Overwatch, him and Reinhardt messing around in the mess hall, Fox and Wolf training together, Nate and Sully fixing London's plane, it was filled with treasured memories from Pliskin's past.

"I know he had something he vas hiding 'round here…"

"Reinhardt, are you sure? You know an awful lot of Pliskin's apartment, have you been here?"

Sly responded, pulling a picture of him and Arno Dorian at one of the Watchpoints.

"I dunno, he only gave me a key to this place, however, it seems like someone was here before, the papers say so itself…"

The papers were particularly arranged so that it would appear if the room was ordered at a certain time. Some of them contained notices about Overwatch's closure, S.H.I.E.L.D.S' destruction, his orders for following destruction protocol.

"Vait, I think I know where this is leading us."

"Reinhardt, someone must have investigated this place before us, the way everything is arranged, just gives me the creeps."

Nate said, shutting an empty cabinet.

Reinhardt read the instructions on the protocol paper;

"-Apartment should be stocked with a stor-"

The only words he could make out of the paper.

"I have a feeling…"

The crusader walked to the bed, then pivoted around. The closet held an inconspicuous look to it, a poor attempt to dissuade intruders to this dwelling.

"I should have known about zhis. Why didn't I get one in my wohnung in Stuttgart…"

Reinhardt opened the double doors to the solid black oak doors. He found the closet was empty, a perfect indicator that something was not correct in this setup.

"Aha! I know exactly what to do, a false wall!"

Reinhardt shouted, the duo jolted away at the sudden noise.

He pushed against the back of the closet. Requiring very few energy, he was able to lift the panel and set it to the side, an entire room set into the corner of the building. It was a saferoom, filled with ammo, guns, and supplies, all effects from S.H.I.E.L.D. and Overwatch before it was reformed. Reinhardt hand to literally crawl into the the 14 by 14 feet room, Nate and Sly following him. Sly picked up a MP5, aiming down the metal sights of the submachine gun.

"How do you think Pliskin aquired so many guns and ammo as well? And maps?"

Nate inquired as he picked up a map of San Francisco.

There were multiple locations dotted on that map, each circled with a red ink to designate important locales according to Pliskin. Coit Tower, Grace Cathedral, City Hall, Union Square, the Embarcadero; these specific locations were all in one connected line, forming a triangle like shape. Nate began to trace the locations; one by one he lined them up in order from the northern most to the southernmost.

"Bingo. Hey guys!"

Nate called out.

"I just realized, all of these locations; once you list them in order, then trace 'em from northernmost to southernmost, it forms a lightning bolt-"

"So what does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh so you don't want to know how if you then draw a straight line from San Fran city hall you reach the Twin Peaks-"

Nate sarcastically coughed quickly, pushing the map off the table in the dimly lit room.

"What I mean is that the trail leads to a good vantage poin-".

"He must have been hunting for something. I think this note explains everything."

Reinhardt interrupted.

The note appeared faded, thought it was dated only a year ago. The contents were very precise yet the main message spelled out,

"CALL FOR S.H.I.E.L.D REMENANTS. BIG NEWS AHE."

The message on the back contained a strange encrypted message,

"YJXOJM

EJIZN

IZR

WMDOVDI

XJIIZXODXPO

YJMVYJ."

"This is gibberish,"

Reinhardt remarked.

"Alright, let me have a go,"

Nate demanded, receiving the paper.

"Well, someone get Q because I don't know crap about this."

"I wish Bentley or possibly Elliot was still around, they've run underground after Moscow."

"Well Sly, Q is the only one available to us at this time, hopefully we can send the message through him without the email being compromised…"

* * *

Tokyo,

The impressive sight of Mount Fuji was the first glimpse of Tokyo when he arrived, courtesy of a Mage located near Hero's Canton. It was already nightfall, the glare of the city roared the word sleepless into his mind. Pliskin was on top of the Tokyo Tower; the location of one of the mage portals into Azeroth in Tokyo. It wasn't busy as usual, according to Pliskin; on a normal day, there would be multitudes of Night Elves, Charr, Orcs, traveling citizens of Arda and Stormwind, hustling and shuffling between the worlds.

The boy took an elevator downstairs, then passing through the lobby of the tower. He entered the chaotic night life of downtown Tokyo. Pliskin vaguely recalled the trip he and Logan took to Japan a few months back after Berlin. He had already called Mariko to reserve him a space at a hotel ran by the late Yashida, the former CEO of a technology conglomerate headquartered in the city. He was here for a reason though, a very unconventional one at best. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow was currently performing operations in Japan on behalf of the X-Men and Pliskin needed her assistance.

Natasha was a master a dueling, having taught Alex, Laurens, and James Bond the skill that "gentlemen" would have preferred in the 1800's. Now the skill of dueling was now widespread throughout the world; however, a much more illegal practice of dueling was resurging, the art of the pistol duel. Dueling by pistols, the one governed by a code long ago was made illegal throughout the galaxy, instead more different forms rose in its stead, the one commonplace between disagreeing mercenaries or two rival soldiers. The town of Goldshire or the gates of Orgimmar were the place to see one of these duels, often gathering attention from lords and ladies in need of a merc.

However, he didn't challenge Bangar to that type of duel as the other imperators believed. It was to be until both parties yielded, and that often meant death. He was walking the streets alone, even in the cool air of fall. Not many people pointed their eyes or made gestures at him, partly due to his mixed heritage as an Asian-European which led many people to either distinguish him as an Englishman or a Canadian, however in part to Pliskin's facial features, his jet black and brownish hair and dark hazel eyes clearly made him an Asian. It was a vague memory that got to Pliskin, remembering the path he took with the Wolverine during the trip, it seemed to him that he was walking the exact same road filled with street vendors and the scent of fish.

What he didn't know was that Natasha herself was infiltrating Pliskin's hotel in search of files regarding the late CEO and his involvement with cyber embezzlement. Before Pliskin was at the hotel, she had arrived an hour prior to the boy arriving back on Earth. She had made a mess of the lobby, knocking out several Yashida goons before ascending nearly 40 floors as Pliskin viewed it.

Pliskin hastily checked in, as he was only staying in for one night only. Conveniently, his room was also on the 40th floor. The elevator was locked in one color, a gold yellow before it ascended. The elevator began to switch colors, producing a vibrant rainbow of colors, jumping from green, to blue, to a red before arriving at the 40th floor.

"Room 4008."

Pliskin muttered to himself.

He heard a loud thud as if something with a large mass had fallen. Pliskin pulled out his firearm, a 38H, in response to the noise. There was only one hallway as he exited the elevator. The lights were equally as vibrant as the ones in the elevator as Pliskin progressed through the hallway. He heard another thud, equally unsettling as the first one. The noise was near. It had to be coming from one of these suites. He walked silently through the corridor, his gun in the air, prepared to fire a warning shot.

Again there was another thud. It came directly from his right, near the end of the corridor. It was in room 4007, the last room before the end of the hallway, room 4008. He aimed his firearm at the door lock, prepared to fire at the mechanism. His hands were on the trigger, albeit a very unsteady grip on the gun. The door opened.

"Natasha, you're here? At this hotel?"

Pliskin asked, confused.

"Didn't you get the memo? Tokyo. Yashida Industries? Sombra? Does any of that bring up anything in the last 48 hours?"

Natasha responded.

Pliskin lowered his weapon, holstering it on a leg holster near the top of his jump boot. He saw three men, all business attire on the white carper floor, dead perhaps. There was broken glass everywhere, flowers from a porcelain vase were wet on the floor near the window.

"I see you've been busy."

"Yeah well it's all part of my night job."

"What is your day job then?"

"You'll find out sooner or later. Now cut the crap why are you here?"

Natasha inquired.

"Look. You know Tribune Brimstone? He's arrested and since I am the _only_ one that's "available" he made me challenge an Imperator to a duel to buy him freedom."

"What type of duel, a casual- "

"You know what I mean Natasha. You practice it anyways."

"Come on, get downstairs- "

The sound of whirring was audible throughout the floor. Searchlights peered throughout the hotel floor, beaming light into each room. It was a helicopter.

"Did you sign in under an alias?"

"'Couse I did; what did you expect for someone with ten years of experience in the field?"

The two of them ran into the elevator. They went down to the lobby, running out in an assumed panic. There were police everywhere once the duo was out of the building, hands in the air. They ran back across downtown Toyko; the early hours of the morning had just barely been rung in.

"I honestly thought you'd be in the Hanamura neighborhood. Hanzo and Genji have some, well history back there."

"Did you expect history or information when I was barely here? Of course I would be investigating Yashida Industries."

They arrived at the Tokyo Tower, barely escaping the police. They ascended up the metal beams and dimly lit lights and arrived at the top where a mage was still waiting.

"Black Citadel. Pronto. Please."

"Pliskin. You better explain to me why you dragged me from a mission to help you with this shit."

"I will."

The two of them dissipated into air as they arrived at the Black Citadel, in the middle of Hero's Canton in the middle of the night.

* * *

San Francisco,

San Francisco Public Library.

"Look Reinhardt, I don't know why you decided to take us to the library, but this looks pretty cool."

Elena said, gazing at all the books.

It was around the early morning, the library had just barely opened, and the first thing patrons of the library was a seven foot, former crusader, now an Overwatch agent and his four companions. The early morning glare wasn't particularly strong, partly due to the fog. They were in the café, on the ground floor with televisions broadcasting the news, with weather and news of blimps launching in the area and a supposed vandalism of an apartment.

"Okay, Reinhardt brought two books on Aztec mythology and- Is that cryptology?"

Nate asked, dropping the books on the table.

"Nate, c'mon. It's for the mission."

Elena responded.

"Elena, remember the time we were in Panama and- "

"Were supposed to find the supposed treasure of "El Dorado." C'mon Nate, it was a myth developed by the inhabitants of Dorado- "

"To attract tourists. Elena I know."

He said, agitated.

"You two are cute. When's the one-year anniversary? Got anything planned?"

"Sly. It's only been six months since the wedding. You remember."

"Oh right."

He was sitting to the right of Reinhardt, drinking an expresso while peering over one of the books of Aztec history. He wasn't wearing his trademark blue hoodie, instead opting for a navy blue pea coat and his yellow scarf in addition to his hat. The café wasn't packed, even at nine in the morning.

"I'm going to check out more books on Aztec history, Elena, Sly wanna come? Cap and Snake are still analyzing what we found in Pliskin's apartment, they aren't going to be coming until, like 11."

"Sure thing."

The three of them exited the strong scent of the café and took an elevator to the fourth floor of the library. It was quiet as usual, as it was a library. They progressed through the hallways, filled with endless books about the Romans, Greeks, Chinese and Korean Dynasties, books that could fill a place such as Karazhan. They arrived at a section that was distinctly labeled "Aztec" on the header on the shelf. It wasn't as large as the areas containing the more "popular" subjects of history.

"Nate, why are you checking out books on the Aztecs anyways? They've got no relevance to Sombra."

"One of the messages was sent to Gibraltar was recorded to be from the Yucatan peninsula,"

Elena interjected.

"It was originally in Spanish but thanks to, "me" I decoded it for them from my office in NYC. It was the same gibberish we got from all the other messages."

Nate was grabbing books by the piles, pulling texts about ancient Aztec rituals and ancient Aztec languages and pictographs. He opened a book up, revealing many myths and legends revolving the Aztec deities. He flipped through a page, landing on one story he had never recalled hearing or learning before. The legend of the Sombra.

"Her lips touch those whom are deemed unworthy… She seeks information… and she silences them all."

"Well, well, well, our supposed hacker is actually an Aztec demigoddess? Whadaya know, hmm?"

"Sly, Nate. I don't think we're dealing with the supernatural. We're dealing with someone who intends to metaphorically "silence" us. By hacking of course."

"Oohh… some spooky ghost figure hmm? Elena, she always leaves a purple sugar skull, and what do they symbolize? Bingo. Day of the Dead."

"Nate, please don't tell me this is one of your crazy conspiracies again-"

"Of course it is! But it's not that crazy, I promise 'ya. All I'm saying is that there's a connection between this Sombra myth, skulls and Day of the Dead. Isn't day of the dead supposed to be in a month or so?"

Nate said, rambling off on one of his theories.

"Around fifty-seven days to be precise."

Sly responded, checking his digital watch.

"Hey you two. I think I know a guy who knows this stuff. Anyone remember Doctor Jones? Or Indiana Jones? I worked with him on some digs, including the one in Egypt Nate."

"Elena, please don't tell me…"

"Yep, I'm callin' up Doctor Jones."

She then left the shelves, and headed into a study room to make a call to her colleague, Indiana Jones, all the way in the East Coast. And Nate continued to carry the multitudes of books to the table below, much to Sly's disappointment.

 _Make sure to review and follow: The Hunt for Sombra_


	5. Interlude

Chapter 5:

Interlude:

London

"Agent 007, you are fully aware of the threat am I correct,"

"And 72 hours later, MI6 networks are still offline from Sombra. Q do you have any reason to explain the outage?"

"And you two. I take it that you two are Overwatch Agent-"

"I'm ex actually. I'm working with Wolf London 'gain."

It was well past night on the shores of the Thames. The four involved in the club attack three days ago were placed in a holding cell, luckily each of them were able to obtain their own cage and wear their own clothing. They were in M's office, summoned on behalf of the Prime Minister, Harold Saxon.

"O'Donnell and Lena Oxton; You have no part in this affair and I ask you to leave the room at this time. Thank you goodbye."

M said.

Wolf and Tracer walked out of the room, pushing their chairs in and strolling out the door as if it was some casual manner.

"M lecturin' you again?"

A man in a strong Cryodillic accent asked.

The two of them nodded, wearily. The four of them had only six hours of sleep in total after the incident, partly due to the interrogations the quartet had to suffer.

"I take it that you're fillin' in for Miss Moneypenny?"

Tracer responded, facing the man from Cryodill.

"Yeah, she's been missin' for 'round three days. M just brought me in from Tamriel just hours ago. Barely got time to change out of my robes. Anyways, gotta go."

The Imperial walked out of the reception room, removing his robes which were sown with exquisite red silk, imported from the port city of Lion's Arch. The two of them looked with reluctant confusion as he walked out of the reception.

"I didn't get 'ya name!"

Both Tracer and Wolf sat opposite from each other, Wolf at Moneypenny's desk while Tracer in the seat facing him.

"So Wolf, haven't seen 'ya in a while."

He only blinked at her, the lack of sleep pulling him down.

"Wait, so how long were 'ya in th' inner rim?"

"Well. For once, I've been on vacation.'Round the Rim 'course. Specifically, tourin' and fight'n for some mercs I met up a few years back."

"Oh! Who were these mercenaries then? Where they space pirates- oh or raiders!?"

She asked with extreme enthusiasm.

"Well, can't tell you anythin' major but, I developed this extreme rivalry with one of these pilots, didn't end well for the both of us."

"What happened!"

"I shot 'em down. Threatened to attack the ship we were escortin'. Got shot myself, right over 'ere."

He replied, pointing to his right shoulder.

"Nothin' bad to worry 'bout. Wasn't a major injury anyways."

The door slammed open as the three men exited M's office; a very sudden choice for them.

"Get off my secretary's desk Donnell."

M commanded, looking Wolf in the eye; his eyes rolling in reluctance to Bond's superior.

"We're heading to Corsham Street. The people from New York have just arrived. We're heading to the Frye's flat."

"Bond, you know any of them?"

"Well, I know that London is one of them, along with the Professor, Stark, and the Frye twins. Not too sure about the former."

"Hey Bond, why couldn't we meet at your flat? Chelsea is much closer than Corsham."

Tracer inquired, staring blankly at the painting above Wolf's head.

"My flat isn't under constant surveillance, unlike this building. But I do suppose that I am since you injected me with Overwatch's, "Smart Blood."

Bond gestured at Q.

"Anyways, are you all coming? We're disconnected the majority of our computers and moving to Site B."

"Well, got nothin' else better to do, might as well join in M."

Wolf responded, looking at M.

"Well, you were obviously required to come,"

M said, rolling his eyes because of his response.

"What do you know about Zeppelins?"

* * *

New York City

5 Madison Avenue

Night had fallen over New York City. The rays of sun fading away to reveal the sereneness of the moon and darkness. On top of a certain clock tower in Midtown Manhattan, resided a rather, curious group, or clan as they were referred to, of creatures not fully understood until a recent time. They were known as the Manhattan Clan, they were creatures only known to Earth as "Gargoyles."

Goliath, the clan's leader, gazed at the bright lights emitted from the towering skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan, many buildings including the Eryie Building; the location of his beloved castle. He knelt in deep contemplation, contemplating the actions of these, "Droids" that has wreaked havoc on Tony Starks party. Despite Tony and Eliza assisting his clan in claiming the top three floors of the clock tower, he couldn't trust the former CEO of Stark Industries due to his ties with Xanatos, the businessman who caused all the madness that was wrought onto his clan along with being his greatest nemesis.

Elsewhere inside the tower, was Alex, "Alexander" Hamilton, a law student at Columbia University who was at the party. Entering the tower just after eight o'clock, it only took him a meagre amount of time just to take an elevator and ascend to the top of the clock. Entering a blank room, a velvet parlor room with bookcases attached to the walls and dark forest green resting chairs around each of the corner. With a tip-off from a certain police detective, Hamilton precisely knew what bookcase and book to pull in able to access the hidden refuge of the Manhattan Clan. Walking over to the top-left bookcase, he scanned for the specific book he was to pull. Eyeing a dark grey book on the second to bottom shelf, he peered at the ruined spine and saw the words, "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" embroidered with gold.

"Well, what are you waiting for, pull it!"

He shouted to himself.

He did. Nothing happened at first to Hamilton's surprise. Alex would have expected to be one of those clichéd movie moments where the hidden trapdoor would spontaneously rotate out.

"Oh right, it's a knob."

He would turn the book to his left and push it back into the bookcase, causing the case to lurch back into the passageway. The gargoyle's home was furnished to resemble their own castle on top of the Eryie Building. It was simple; the walls plastered with limestone and adorned with brazers lit dimly.

'Goliath, we have our visitor."

"Hudson, why are you not on patrol?

"Aye, that'd be the question lad. Lexington instead took my position."

"That doesn't answer the question Hudson, what do you have in connection to our visitor?"

Goliath responded, turning away from the ledge he was on.

"Well, he was the one who broke into the vault underneath the Central Park castle, an' I was the one who found him."

"Broken? Broken into? Hudson, when did this happen?"

"Aye, about five o' six months ago. The lad said he was working for someone named George at his university."

"But the vault, was it left without a trace?"

The purple gargoyles asked.

"Aye, it was, 'xcept, Reinhardt and the boy was in there, just recently though."

"Boy? What boy?"

"Goliath, isn't it obvious? Pliskin! Christopher Hall? You know his adoptive son and Overwatch agent? Lad, I didn't make you leader of our clan because you forgot the boy's name!"

Hudson exclaimed, nearly throwing his sword behind him.

"I know my friend, it's just that, the future looks bleak to me. I don't know why but, I see them. I see them in my stone dreams Hudson."

"Who? You don't mean that the Leg-"

"Hudson, the Legion is returning, and I am not sure what will happen to our clan, our city, this world, the galaxy, and- Elisa… I sense something terrible and I ask for your counsel friend…"

"Oh Goliath, dreams are just dreams lad, and visions are well, just visions. When I was leading the clan I did have stone dreams like you did; and look what happened, none of them came true."

"I know, but the future troubles me."

Another gargoyle swooped down onto the perch they were on, this time a red one with flowing white hair.

"Hey Goliath, Alex's here."

"Yes, yes Brooklyn, Hudson informed me."

"And uh, can I stop by Stark Tower? Lex said that Tony had some spare parts for him to use."

The red gargoyle asked nonchalantly.

"Go ahead Brooklyn, take Broadway with you."

"Whatever you say old man."

Brooklyn jokingly said to Hudson.

Coming from the bottom of the stairs was Alex, a torch in one hand and a book in another. He attempted to peer around the top of the clock tower; trying to find the clan in near darkness.

"Oh, there you are you scallywag."

Hudson mockingly joked.

"Oh, hi. Mr. Huds- I mean Hudson."

"What did you bring for us, Alexander?"

"Wait, there's more of you? Oh right you told me about that Hudson. Well, I uh, brought you a book that is of crucial importance."

Alex would respond, handing over a book covered with red satin linen.

'What is this?"

"It's allegedly from Karazhan, the library to be specific. I borrowed it from the archmage."

"Khadgar you mean? That magnificent bastard, never saw him in a while. Did 'e mention anything about us?"

Hudson replied.

"No sir; he only said to, "Give them my regards."

"Hudson! Do you know what this is? This is one of the copies of the Grimoire! The volume that contained the histories of the Gargoyles, the Legion, nearly everything we need to defeat the Legion!"

"Yeah, but the thing is, the thing's incomplete. Sorry to mention that. It's missing the Gargoyle part, the Legion part, and the Reaper study by the Jedi Lannius. The only thing there is some notes on South America and rituals they performed."

"Rituals? You don't mean this also has to do with Sombra?"

"Sorry to say it does, Hudson."

The older gargoyles nodded his head in quiet contemplation, shocked yet visibly disheartened about the true reason Khadgar had sent the Grimoire. Goliath on the other hand was reading through the ancient book, flipping over pages of history that he didn't even know about.

'So uh, what now? What are you donna do with the book?"

"We will find the rest of the pages. Starting tomorrow, at dawn where no one will see us fly. And how is, the boy? Is he fine I hope?"

Goliath asked, closing the book to face Alex.

"Well, you don't want to know what he got himself into now."

Hamilton replied, shyly looking on the floor.

"What is it."

The gargoyle bluntly asked again.

"He got himself into a duel with one of the Imperators of the Blood Legion…"

"What! No! He cannot duel him! Does he know the repercussions of wounding, or yet, killing someone of that political status?"

"He said that he would duel him purely for the sake of releasing Tribune Brimstone."

"The young boy, how old is he anyways?"

Hudson asked.

"He just turned nineteen 11 months ago."

"What? He's about to be 20. I'm getting to old for this rubbish."

"Well, I'm about to be heading off now, anything you want me to deliver, Goliath?"

"I was going to ask you, Alex, to deliver a message to Elisa for me. Can you please tell her, to meet us at dawn?"

"I will. Don't worry, I'm not gonna wait for it."

Hamilton replied.

"Aye, off ye' be going now lad, Goliath and I best be speaking on private terms now."

Alexander took off, speeding downstairs like a bullet would. The student never had such a supernatural conversation as he just had. Nevertheless, he achieved his main goal. The older gargoyle now faced Goliath alone. The moon silently creeping up behind them as the night dragged on.

"Goliath, what's your plan o' action now?"

"It'd be best if we began to mobilize now. We need to get to Ascalon."

He'd respond.

"And who do ye' expect to help us find those pages?"

"Logan Thackeray. and a woman named, "Commander Shepard. I know them."


	6. Your Most Obedient Servant

Chapter 6:

Your Most Obedient Servant:

The Black Citadel,

"Now aim your pistol straight at the target, don't try to aim but, lightly hold your gun and, fire."

Bang! The shot was released from the pistol, the smoke and scent of black powder filling the air. There was only a small dirt courtyard in Hero's Canton set with crude training dummies. Rytlock had managed to reserve the area before his hearing for the two of them; the canton, half deserted by the time the two were training.

"Natasha; isn't it obvious I know how to fire a damn gun? This is practically feeding a baby."

"Pliskin, I know how you think but this isn't as easy as, one two three fire. There are rules to the duel. Now again."

Pliskin was clad in a dueling greatcoat, complete with a cape and was sown, black, sleek, and attuned for night operations. He raised the pistol again, practicing the same technique that Natasha Romanoff reiterated to him and fired the pistol with a loud bang, missing the target.

"Okay, why the hell did I miss that shot? I'm known to be a better shot in Overwatch."

She sighed,

"Pliskin, dueling pistols are completely different from normal pistols. They aren't rifled like most pistols or blasters you see around here. Remember, these types of duels are illegal here."

"Well, why can we use actual rifled flintlock pistols? There's no harm in-"

"Pliskin, the seconds have to inspect each gun before the duel commences. Didn't you read the copy of the Code Duello or at least heard of the Ten Duel Commandments?"

"Well, not in its entirety but-"

"Really. I wouldn't have known if you didn't ask that question. It's in the first page of the book. Now again."

Dueling was not such a mysterious art to Pliskin as Natasha would have expected it to be for him. Training the young agent in an art long forgotten to many was as complicated as teaching Illidan Stormrage and the Illidari the meaning of mercy. He again raised the pistol in the air, bringing the pistol down and extending his right arm out. He looked down the barrel gracefully, not trying to aim at the target, but instead try to guide the shot.

He pulled the trigger; white smoke obscuring the area. They fanned the air around them; and when the dust settled, the target was no more.

"Better. Now do you know how many paces you are to walk after-"

"Ten, precisely counting."

"Good, now after that you are supposed to fire instantaneously, don't give a damn if you believe you're going to miss or not, just take the bloody shot."

Natasha replied.

"And do you believe that's gonna prevent me from dying and falling face first onto the floor."

Pliskin said, sarcastically criticizing her comment.

"Well, if I were you, I'd take it with a grain of salt. You know how to live."

"Believe me Natasha. James Bond gave me a few tips on how to run, shoot, and live all at the same time."

"Let's retire, I'm already feeling tired myself."

He'd place the pistol in the ornate box. It was only a simpler model, as the actual guns were to be provided by the Imperator. They walked out of the canton and into the main promenade of the Black Citadel. It was quickly approaching night as the scent of sulfur, steel, and gunpowder was ceasing to mask the air. Unfortunately, there was no room for the duo in any of the inns across the Citadel, eventually using a waypoint to port to Dalaran.

Dalaran,

It was a magnificent city, the purple towers towering above the sea and sky as it floated around the world. Dalaran usually travelled around the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor, but in this case circling around the southern coast of Essos, on a course to Tyria. The city was one of the last bastions of freedom and equality in the entirety of Azeroth alongside the free cites of Essos, Daggerfall, and Lion's Arch. Pliskin saw the magnificent towers, the wide streets, and the plentiful mages of the University that was housed inside the Violet Citadel. It was almost a dream to him, even though he'd been to the city plenty of times before with Overwatch and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

No one in the Council of Six knew about the duel except for Khadgar, who recently took over for Jaina Proudmoore as she, "reportedly" left the council for reasons unknown. Jaina had been acting extremely erratic since teleporting the city to Karazhan, leading to many in the council to question her motives. The council was easily fooled by such movements; as the Moscow Incident was a diplomatic and tactical failure caused by Jaina's predecessor, Rhonin. The council altogether was a stable source of government to the people of Dalaran, however, the sheer knowledge of the council was severely limited to the most intricate of plans.

Khadgar had allowed the three of them to stay inside the room known as the, "Purple Parlor" to some through the course of the trial, deceitfully stating that they were on a diplomatic mission. The rooms were layered in dark velvet purple yet shone in the presence of light. The sun's setting rays pierced through the open balcony as day approached night on Azeroth. Natasha and Pliskin had already reached the parlor when the sun's rays retreated and night advanced, not knowing a certain visitor was there.

"Rytlock? Why the hell are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at the Black Citadel?"

Pliskin exclaimed.

"Well cub, one thing's certain. The jury's hung."

Rytlock replied.

"Romanoff, have you made any progress training 'em?"

"He's done fairly well, despite missing a few shots. I think he'll do great tomorrow."

"So the duel is still commencing?"

Pliskin interjected, overhearing the conversation.

"That's one thing for sure. Dunno if Bangar's gonna hold on to his word though."

"What do you mean Rytlock?"

"Well, he tried to challenge me to a personal duel; I accepted. I disarmed him. Jury said they're hung. Case closed."

The charr said.

"That's all?

"Well cub, I don't know what the future has in store; if you defeat Bangar."

Rytlock responded, nodding at Natasha.

"Pliskin, got any word from Snake or Khadgar?"

"Yeah, uh, Khadgar just arrived at Paris,"

Pliskin responded,

"He gave me this letter, fancy isn't it?"

He held up the letter, a scarlet letter written in violet ink, presumably conjured up by the archmage's arcane powers.

"Well, Reinhardt just sent me a message, he's saying stuff about Zeppelins, the San Francisco Bay and a company known as, "Zorin Industries."

"Isn't that a bit random? For your old pal of course."

Rytlock sarcastically said, gesturing at Pliskin.

"What? No..no not at all Rytlock!"

"Heh heh, anyways, mind if you show me some of your dueling skills?"

The moment Rytlock finished spitting out what he had to say, the boy took out his pistol and fired one blank shot at him. The charr jumped while Natasha only looked to her right seeing what happened.

"My god, what was that!"

Rytlock shouted in disbelief.

"Look over there."

Pliskin pointed at the balcony, the night and the moon peering into the parlor. There was a shadowy corpse directly in front of him. To the boy, it did not resemble anything human, elven, or anything remotely intelligent at all; all he saw was a black, mechanical, being directly lying dead on the balcony.

"Jeepers! Dammit! Next time you pull a fast one on me, tell me first!"

The charr exclaimed, drawing his sword.

Rytlock was the first to walk onto the balcony, the glowing sword barely visible in the metropolis of Dalaran. He kneeled, inspecting the device, noting it was like the ones back at the party. The charr first inspected the head of the creature, staring the wires and gears in the hole that Pliskin blew through it. Rytlock then pulled the black sheet off of the device, revealing horrid gears, wires and crude body parts to those resembling a human being.

"Hot damn, what the hell is this?"

"I dunno Rytlock, but whatever it is, that ting was after us."

Natasha said, kneeling to inspect the creature as well.

"Good thinking Pliskin. Next time you do that I'll ask you to do that to my mail once I get my position back."

Rytlock chuckled, alongside Pliskin.

"Rytlock, that's not the time, what the hell was this thing that just attacked us, and why was it here?"

"I don't know Natasha, this seems too deus ex machina to me. Seems too out of the blue to attack or intrude on us."

"Pliskin, did you say, "Deus ex machina?" I think you may be on to something."

"What do you mean Natasha? What do you mean he's, "on" to something?"

Rytlock said.

"Well, in the lessons I took whle training in the KGB, deus ex machina means, "God from the machine" in greek."

"Greek? God in the machine? This is too damn confusing."

"I don't know Rytlock. But I suspect foul play in this. The paint looks like the same shade as the color of the Black Citadel. I think Bangar is trying to remove us before the duel tomorrow."

"Pliskin. That's why you better shoot straight at 'em."

* * *

Paris,

France,

"Ah, James Wolf London. We just noticed your F-15 land at the airport. Are the rest coming soon I hope?"

"Pleasure to meet you again Arno. How was your honeymoon?"

Charles de Gaulle airport was filled to the brim with people of differing nationalities and ethnicities entering and leaving France. Surprisingly a military plane was allowed clearance to this site; normally a plane would have been redirected to a nearby airbase however, the aviator was granted clearance.

"The others, aren't here yet I'm afraid. Tony's still in immigration and the Frye Twins lost their luggage. Telling by the service, I expect that they'll arrive at the chateau half past midnight."

Arno and Elise had only been recently married for six months, and in that time, purchased a small chateau just for the two of them in Versailles, fortunately with the money received in compensation from the Moscow Incident, they could renovate the entire outlying area as well, eventually building two guest houses not far from the property. No one in the Assassin Order except for a few knew about the forbidden marriage. These few were only the Frye Twins, Altair, Ezio, the Kenway family and the Miles family; trusted confidentals of not only the Assassin Order, but also of S.H.I.E.L.D and Overwatch.

"Lots of things changed Arno. You're married. Asgore's the head of the EU. S.H.I.E.L.D's back. Azeroth now has a worldwide alliance. It seems the world can't get a move on."

Jacob Frye was still in immigration; a long line ahead of him. Most the team took a public flight on British Airways despite the protests of Khadgar who insisted on using an Asura gate to quickly get to Paris within minutes. The flight in first class was a bit relaxing, despite taking up nearly six of the seats to accommodate all. The plane was still docked in its terminal; crowds of paparazzi swarming the plane to take photographs of Stark, and he casually waved them off.

The reporters constantly swarmed Tony. Incessant shouts in French, Dutch, German, and a variety of unknown dialects to the billionaire undoubtedly did cause Tony to grow annoyed at them. The unwanted visitors also shouted at the Archmage who had returned from Dalaran. He did not have his staff with him at that time, nor did he have any intention to use any arcane spells on the paparazzi. They continued to walk down the terminal, more reporters joining the mob that was trailing the two visitors; scents of coffee and pastries filling the air as they traversed the terminal.

"Everyone, please give us some room. Tony and I are on a diplomatic mission!"

Khadgar shouted, attempting to grab the crowd's attention.

The response only generated more noise and a cacophony of yelling. The reporters were even more interested in hearing what the two had to say.

"Oh Jacob, finally got out of there? Oh, right, my bodyguards are doing the immigration shit."

Tony laughed, looking to the slightly younger Frye twin.

"Oh boy was it filled with rubbish Stark,"

Jacob replied.

"The damn line wouldn't even budge the slightest of bits!"

"Jacob, that is one thing you need to learn, patience. With all the time I spent on outland doing nothing, I'm sure you'd learn that skill in around, maybe 20 years or so?"

The archmage interjected, giving a witty response of his own.

"Do you know where Arno or London is? I called in a limo just for the five of us."

"You didn't need to do that Tony, I could of simply-"

"Yeah I know, but we need to do it in style. Don't take it personally."

Tony responded, bursting into more laughter.

"Come on, I know a shortcut. Excuse moi!"

He shouted, moving the two to a nearby exit on his right.

The fresh air of France was the first thing that greeted everyone once they reached outside. There was no more reporters or paparazzi that vowed to follow them; only the setting sun and a limousine waiting conveniently outside for them. Evie was already waiting outside, handling the luggage instead of the usual porter that handled bags. Arno and London were already inside the limo, discussing how Chen Stormstout and Elise were already at the chateau.

"Come on, just get in, we'll talk about it inside."

Driving across the French countryside was an ideal vacation for many budding couples to undertake. Nearly all the stereotypes about France were wrong as the limo traversed the countryside seeing the city firsthand after the Ultron Crisis. Much of the outer arrondissements of the city were hastily rebuilt after the Steel Clan practically routed the Overwatch militiamen from the center, crushing any resistance that was put up. Unfortunately, David Xanatos was cleared of any charges against him; the creation of robots and synths in the Manhattan Clan's image one of them.

The limo was bulletproof, a standard made by Stark Industries. The inside however was made to be glamourous, complete with Tuscan leather seats and Chinese silk making up the drapes of the small curtains inside the car. Even the cases holding weapons were highly tailored for any situation, made from pressurized plastic that was resistant to five tons of pressure on it.

"So, Stark, what makes you so hesitant about the Moscow Incident? Afraid to diminish your role eh?"

"Well Jacob let's see what I did. Hmm, destroyed many of the nukes before launching, disabled the Metal Gear, relayed the location of the weak spots of the Death Star, found where Imran Zakhaev was, and helped lead a counterattack against the Ultranationalists. And you think I don't do enough hm?"

"Well, I take it that Captain Price has a lot to thank you about, right Evie?"

Jacob responded, his sister rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Anyways, I know the chateau's close. I helped the couple purchase it."

"And we can provide a counterattack to those machines right?"

Khadgar interjected.

"Precisely."

The billionaire responded.

"Oh, and Tony, I must return to Dalaran after we reach the chateau. The council of six would like to speak to me about some problems abroad."

"That's cool. Just leave a message after we get out."

* * *

The Black Citadel,

"You're doing better Pliskin. 80% of all shots were landed. I think we got this."

"Well, I do feel uncomfortable dueling someone that's the size of Rytlock. I mean I've spent two years following Destiny's Edge in their adventures around Tyria. Now I know where Rytlock gets his anger issues from."

Pliskin chuckled.

"But you made a promise Pliskin."

"I know and I intend to honor it but, killing a living being out of a petty argument, I think we could have solved it through words better yet."

"Rytlock would have died if you didn't step up and challenge Bangar and avert the trial. Luckily the jury was hung."

"I know, but as a last resort. I know Reinhardt told me to stick up for others and defend others but, was what I did necessary? I know that I'm a good shot but, why did I have to do this?"

"It's a huge world Pliskin. One that's a world bent on warcraft. Peace is an honorable goal, but you must be willing to spill blood if you intend to hold that peace."

It was nearly pitch black in Hero's Canton; the warbands hastily asleep while only a few charr were active providing nighttime duities. He had only six hours left to prepare for the occasion and he was half-awake by the time they took a waypoint back to the Citadel. The boy did truly feel discomfort after all this training, not because of the work that had to be done, but the morality of dueling to the death itself.

He was wearing a blue coat this time, dark navy blue that resembled a navy officer's coat. To complete it out a black top hat, a gift from Genn Greymane when he had served in the Gilnean Liberation Front. The dueling pistols however were actual historical ones, used by two politicians in a time when America was still a fledgling boy, much like Pliskin.

Rytlock was there as well, sleeping on a simple mat much like in his warband days. He never quite thought that he'd be reliving those days ever again, much to his dismay. Rytlock had a bad rep with Blood Legion, preferring to associate himself with Iron Legion and Ash Legion; distancing himself from many in his warband. However, six years ago, he met a certain human, Logan Thackeray and an orphan living on the streets of Lion's Arch, Pliskin. Those where his closest friends until the guild broke up and Pliskin decided to go to Earth to explore his beginnings. The charr never really liked his job as a Tribune anyways after the Moscow Incident happened and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Overwatch was finally disbanded. He hated the paperwork, loads and loads of it. Much like how many of the former agents of S.H.I.E.L.D and Overwatch took actual jobs in the real world, he did as well, out of pressure and of reluctance.

Pliskin was not encouraged at all to kill the charr but instead to maim him or better yet, draw blood first. Pliskin very well knew that if he killed the charr, an entire diplomatic crisis would occur that could tear the entire Pact between Azeroth apart. He knew that if he were to duel him, he would utmost place Rytlock above the alliance, fully knowing that he would be doing something, "morally wrong."

The location was to be somewhere extremely remote in the Plains of Ashford, as Bangar had explored possible locations the day before. It was a place known as, "Human's Lament" a place where a human ambush utterly was crushed, their ghosts dotting the crevasse daily.

Even though Pliskin knew that he had to know his opponent, he knew nothing of him. The Iron Legion barely had any contact with the imperator of Blood Legion, knowing that the Elder Dragon in the north had wreaked destruction in that area. He knew that Bangar knew more than him than the Iron Legion. He knew that he had spies everywhere, nearly everywhere and that he would use his knowledge of him against him.

"So are you ready Pliskin? I have the letter over here for you to sign."

"I…I'm ready."

Natasha removed the parchment from her satchel. He saw the words on the piece that formally allowed the duel to commence. Impulsively he signed the letter, signing, "I have the honor to be your most obedient servant, Pliskin."

He looked around for a messenger, anywhere in the pitch-black darkness. He eyed all the corners, searching a charr that could bring it.

"Hey you! Bring this letter to the Blood Legion headquarters inside the Bane. Call for Imperator Bangar and say that Pliskin sends his regards."

Pliskin called out to a charr who was walking mindlessly to them.

"And make sure that you do bring him the letter and treat him with the utmost respect. We don't want another incident to happen."

Rytlock yawned, waking up from his nap.

He looked at Pliskin, holding the gun in his hand as he seemed to tower over him.

"I hope you know what you're doing… and I hope you don't throw away your shot."

Rytlock added, muttering as he went back to his nap.


	7. The Duel Commandments

Chapter 7:

The Duel Commandments

San Francisco,

It was around midday in San Francisco, evident as the fog had begun to roll in. The sun had been masked by the enigmatic return of the dark grey mist, however it did no damage to anyone in comparison to areas in Tamriel. They were all still at the library, conducting research, reading, and theorizing on Sombra. Doctor Jones did receive the message, even though it was just through a simple text message instead of a raven delivering a message or simply through mail. But those six hours did feel long, and dragged on through the mid hours of the day.

The desk that the group had claimed began to pile on with books and books. Books of knowledge, books of history, books of forbidden knowledge; the pile kept on growing with every hour that passed in the library. Even useless books checked out by Reinhardt were of some use, despite it being a manual about armor and how to maintain and customize it.

Snake wasn't there however, he was at city hall observing. Earlier, he just bluntly left the library much to the shock of Steve and Sly. They expected he was leaving for a smoke but, as the hours dragged on he didn't return even if Captain America could pinpoint his location on his trackers. But Snake's intentions were far less sinister. He was only there to observe as he heard that the controversial senator from Colorado, Armstrong was making an appearance at a Zorin Industries meeting at the San Francisco city hall.

"How long are we going to be here anyways? I mean, it's been at least six hours since six."

"Sly be patient. We only need a few more hours here and we'll be back at the hideout."

The Captain responded.

"Has Stark checked in with you?"

"No, he last texted me that his flight had just arrived in Paris. Chen's already over there so there shouldn't be any problem for the next few days."

Nathan Drake suddenly emerged from an elevator and began to sprint towards the table.

"Doctor Jones is back. He's on his way any moment, he's taking an Asura gate here! Boy, do you know how fast I ran over here, felt like a mile…"

"You should see how fast I run when I do my miles, anyways a little more help is always good."

Steve Rogers said, picking up the books he dropped on the way.

"So, what's next? I heard that the Zorin Industries zeppelin is being launched later on today."

"Aha! I knew it! Zhat's where Sombra would most likely strike next!"

Reinhardt boomed, walking into the area.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well Elena, this "Sombra" does have a knack for technology, and the Zorin zeppelin is supposed to be the most advanced in years!"

"Well Reinhardt, we can't interfere unless we directly are interfered. But we're working on it. Send a text to Pliskin if he needs to come."

"Got it Captain!"

"And I hope he does know what he's doing…"

* * *

The Plains of Ashford: Human's Lament,

Early in the morning…

"Pliskin… remember all that you need to know about the duel. Do not attempt to waste your shot if you truly intend to save Rytlock."

Natasha consoled.

It was at dawn, the fifth rule of the duel. The sun shone blood red, the smog of the Black Citadel blurring the sky. Bangar Ruinbringer had already arrived at the dueling ground before Rytlock and Pliskin. His second was a Night Elf, a tall and slender male like most others of his kind. Natasha held the pistols, Bangar's choice for dueling; they were made of hard ebony wood, dark, black, and soulless; engravings on each side of the guns.

This ground was famous nearly two hundred years ago; only fifty for earthen years; many humans during the charr-human war of Ascalon lost their lives in a futile battle to prevent the charr from capturing their glorified capital city. Today, it is a dueling ground, far from any citizens of Ascalon. Many people come from all over Tyria and the Eastern Kingdoms to settle matters here through one of the only sanctioned pistol duel areas in Azeroth, aside from the multitude of lawless areas in Southern Kalimdor.

"Ahh, Tribune Brimstone, or simply just _Rytlock Brimstone_ now, you've brought your duelist I suppose?"

Ruinbringer said.

"Right here."

Rytlock responded, pointing at the boy wearing a dragoon's navy blue greatcoat.

"This, this is your duelist? I'd expected someone much older, and a better shot…"

The Charr imperator questioned, staring blankly at Pliskin.

"And once again Ms. Romanoff, our paths meet again. I trust that you're the boy's second in this duel?"

"He is no boy; he's actually a great shot if you've worked with him in Overwatch."

Natasha said, looking blankly in response to the impeator's expression.

"Very well. Make your preparations. Nyalorn, negotiate with my friend over here."

The imperator hastily returned to his quarter; he removed his pauldrons, spiked and pained blood red and slipped on his greatcoat, a grey coat emblazoned with the symbols of the Blood Legion in blood red on the back. He'd brush his tufts of fur on his head, making himself look presentable before the challenger announced the paces and time of fire.

"The challenger demands exactly ten paces, and he'd wish to fire immediately after the ten paces had been reached."

Natasha announced, Rytlock and Pliskin on her right side.

Rytlock sighed deeply,

"I hope you know what you're doin'."

"Relax, I have a plan."

"I believe a brief respite is required before we commence the duel; and Rytlock, your terms for release are already negotiated, you will be released and information regarding this "Sombra" will be disclosed to you, if you draw blood and you're satisfied that is."

The two conflicting parties returned to their respective sides, the sun still a bleeding red, hazy with smog and smoke as it approached seven in the morning. Pliskin felt tension, this was his first duel and hell, they didn't teach this subject in Overwatch training. Natasha continued to negotiate with the Night Elf, trying to find a way to release Rytlock out without anyone getting harmed, alas it was to no avail, for Nyalorn requested that Rytlock be tried for desertation again despite the hung jury the previous day; a trial that he'd most certainly lose even without the help of Phoenix Wright. There was no other way, Rytlock needed his freedom and desperately required the information to combat what Bangnar blindly refuses.

Pliskin fiddled with the trigger, the mechanism was vaguely familiar to pistols he'd shot before on Earth. He'd aim the gun through the covers of the tent, trying to hit the Impeator's shoulder without the need for a sight. As Natasha returned from the center of the ground, she'd notice him aiming, Pliskin hastily putting down the pistol.

"Look, I know you're feeling a variety of feelings right now, excitement, fear, the thrill of your first duel, but you need to know this rule to the duel. Do not absolutely throw away your shot, no matter how far or wide you'll miss."

Natasha said, sitting down next to him inside the tent.

"Yeah, I've some of those feelings right now…"

Pliskin muttered to her, fiddling with the flintlock mechanism.

"I know, but, now we'd have to load your weapon now. Hand it over."

He'd turn over the pistol, grabbing it by the barrel and gesturing to Natasha. She'd take the pistol and walk over to the grounds. She'd take powder from the table in the center, letting it slip into the barrel and flintlock mechanism. The round was engraved, specialized and commissioned by Bangnar himself for the duel, a simple crown imprinted on the bullet. The Widow covered it with paper and rammed it down the barrel, Nyalorn performing the same action.

The two parties exited their tents, the sun almost signaling the early morning as it rose over the precipice. Their two respective doctors, a Blood Elf and a Sylvari, for Bangnar and Pliskin respectively gave the two duelists final words of consolation, rapid ones for Bangnar and slow, slurred ones for Pliskin.

"You're smaller than him. Take advantage of that while you're shooting at him."

The sylvari spoke to him, his words coming out slowly as he spoke.

"I know that. And I intend to shoot Bangnar in the shoulder to prevent an interplanetary incident."

Pliskin responded, leaning to his left while observing the charr.

The two duelists walked towards each other, Bangnar's imposing stance blotting out the sun from Pliskin's view. The boy had one disadvantage; he would be facing the sun once the two had counted their paces and fired their rounds at each other. This could throw the boy off aim, the sun's blood red aura shining on the dueling ground. Bangnar however had to aim down to hit the boy, his taller frame as opposed to Pliskin's shorter and leaner frame made it more complicated for the imperator to shoot. He only intended to kill. He would shoot for his heart, providing a swift end to the duel.

Pliskin and Bangnar faced one another, their shadows perfectly covering an extent to their bodies.

"Last chance to negotiate!"

The night elf said, calling out from Bangnar's quarters.

The two of them blankly stared at their faces, Pliskin at Bangnar's; Bangnar at Pliskin.

"You will release Tribune Rytlock Brimstone without harm, and you will hand over the files regarding Sombra. I will not settle for less."

"Try me kid. This man you call a Tribune has deserted his post dishonorably. I suggest if you don't your honor to be tarnished, we'd continue this right now."

The charr responded.

"Hang on, _dishonorably?_ Bangnar, let me ask you this, where were you when the Jungle Dragon attacked and we sent a million soldiers to their potential deaths? Where were you during the Omnic Crisis? Where were you during all of these events and you call a deserter, _"dishonorable?"_

"I had no part in your, _"events."_ It would cause no gain nor loss to my personal honor, and why would I support Earth, Stormwind, Westeros, or Draenor? What they have done for you but cause only death for cowards who don't want to fight?"

"It had to be done Bangnar! Would you watch as the Jungle Dragon steamrolled over your lands or the Legion rained hell from the skies again? Would you?!"

Pliskin yelled at him, irritated for his lack of true honor.

"Bah, enough of this! Carry on with the duel then! I wish to put this one out of his misery!"

Pliskin only let out a scowl, he couldn't misfire his shot or Bangnar would have the second shot, likely a fatal one.

"Very well then. Prepare for the duel then. Any last advice for the duelists give it to them now at this moment only."

Nyalorn announced, tipping his musketeer hat.

Rytlock ran over, he discarded his blindfold, leaving it in the dust as he sprinted to Pliskin.

"Look, I know you're angry, scared, and intimidated, but you can't throw away your shot. Do not raise your pistol at the sky or fire it at the ground. Let your bullet hit straight and true."

He'd whisper to the boy.

"Alright, but if I die, remember that it ain't my fault for walking into this."

Pliskin remarked, smirking at him.

Rytlock smirked back as he walked back to his corner, observing the duel with Natasha.

"You sure he's gonna win for you?"

"Wait and see Natasha."

The duelists stood back to back, Bangnar facing the sun this time instead of Pliskin. The ground was wet, the sun was hazing blood red, and the leaves blew out one single strong gust.

"The challenger demands ten paces; the challenger also demands that the two parties fire once they reach their tenth pace."

"Now on the count of three, I will signal for the two of you to begin walking."

Nyalorn said, shouting from the opposite tent.

"One,"

"Two,"

"Three. Begin."

Pliskin began walking as so Bnagnar. He'd began to recite the rules or "commandments" to the duel in his head, mention by Laurens at Stark Tower as he walked, perhaps to his death.

" _The challenge… demand satisfaction…"_

 _"Pick a place where it's high and dry…"_

 _"Face the moment of adrenaline…"_

 _"Look him in the eye and aim no higher, summon all the courage you require and count…"_

" **One."**

" **Two."**

" **Three."**

" **Four."**

" **Five."**

" **Six."**

" **Seven."**

" **Eight."**

" **Nine."**

" **Ten. Fire!"**

Two pistols shots were heard echoing through the precipice, one had survived, while the other had not. The birds fluttered away, dust had spread all throughout the canyon; a sight you'd only see in a western. The dust blew and it settled. A human and charr had both attempted to spill blood on this ancient ground. And all was calm.


End file.
